The Time Of Your Life
by ShuttupMalfoy
Summary: When Draco Malfoy messes up a Death Eater mission, his girlfriend is accidentally transported back in time to the year when Draco is still a fifth-year at Hogwarts. Stuck there, she needs to find a way to go back to the present and repair the damage Draco has done. This isn't easy, especially with the unsuspecting fifteen-year-old Draco constantly in her way.
1. Chapter 1: The Thieves

**_Note to reader: _**_This story has a connection with the story "The Best of Both Worlds" from the same author. It's not necessary to read it to know what's going on in this one. But it helps._

**THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE**

**Chapter one**

**The Thieves**

_"I've always known you were not a bad person. I just never suspected you'd be the person I'd want to spend my life with."_

It was a sunny morning in Wiltshire. Wera opened her eyes at the feel of the first rays of sunshine on her skin. A year had passed since the most significant even in her life yet had taken place, and she was still the same: thin, pale, dark-haired and somewhat melancholically appealing. Well, that's what Draco thought about her, anyway, but he usually expressed it in simpler – and usually more profane – words. Wera found it hard to believe that any time had passed since the two of them had started dating. Her hair had grown longer, and Draco seemed – visually, at least – more matured and therefore inexplicably taller, but apart from that there was no other evidence that they'd been together for more than a day after the unpredictable circumstances that bound them to each other. Their relationship was just as spontaneous, weird, wild, happy and above all absurd as it had been on the day it had begun. Albeit infinitely satisfied with her life, Wera was just as morbidly sarcastic and Draco was just as immature as always. Currently, he was sleeping beside her, shifting underneath the satin sheets and mumbling incoherently in his sleep in a voice ten times sweeter than the one he spoke with when he was awake. Wera smiled as she watched him dream in a childlike fashion, curled up on the bed in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor. She wished their life together could continue being like this, a series of moments of sweet infinity repeating themselves endlessly. She wished there was only present and no future, for the future could contain the possibility of her losing him. And she couldn't go on if that ever happened.

She turned towards Draco's face and gently drew her fingers through his hair.

'Time to get up, blondie,' she whispered. 'We wouldn't want your parents to bear my presence for too long now, do we?'

Draco Malfoy murmured something that sounded like a baby cat mewling and had the compelling force of a child's plea to skip kindergarten.

'I don't wanna go anywhere,' he uttered sleepily, gripping his pillow like a drowning man holds onto a lifejacket. 'Can't you just tell them I've died?'

'You're too spoiled, you know,' Wera replied softly. 'It's all my fault. I repeated your parents' mistake. Come on; don't make me confiscate your pillow. Today is a big day and you know why.'

'It's not a day worth leaving a bed containing you unless we're getting married, or Potter is dying, or both,' Malfoy m uttered childishly in response. 'That'd be nice, you know. I can already picture the entire ceremony: "Do you both hate Potter?" – "I do", we'll both say, naturally. Then, I'll proclaim it a truly great day.'

'Come on, you lazy bastard, you! You've got work to do!' urged Wera. Draco opened his eyes and squinted at the sun.

'Will you come with me?' he asked. 'I don't want to do this on my own.'

'Of course. What would you do without me?'

'Be married to Astoria Greengrass, I reckon.'

Wera smiled again.

'You should have, you know,' she said to Draco, winking. 'It would have made much more sense. Being with someone of your own kind. Better than the idea of Wera Lynson, a bitter mudblood, bookworm and loser back in school, issues constantly raining on her shoulders, dating Draco Malfoy, rich Slytherin brat, momma's boy and notorious Hogwarts bully. I mean, you're the kind of guy I've always hated. Where's the sense in us being together?'

'Opposites attract,' Draco shrugged and started stretching lazily. 'Besides, Astoria could never fit into any of your dresses. And my mom likes you. So don't worry – we'll last,' he assured Wera. 'Until the end of time.'

'Or until we run out of time,' Wera added grimly. 'Honestly, I think this is too good to last. I feel like it's only a matter of time before something breaks us up, you know. Like we're only here together 'cause we were in the right place and time. If circumstances had been different…'

'Mudblood,' Draco interrupted her wearily, 'you're speaking nonsense again. It's too early in the morning for this. Believe me when I say we'll be together forever, pissing the hell out of my dad 'till he kills himself, or dies. Don't dwell on this, okay?'

'Okay. I'm being paranoid again, sorry. I just worry about the future. I wish I had a timeturner sometimes, just in case, that's all.'

Draco looked encouragingly at his girlfriend and smiled lightly, saying, in his usual carefree voice:

'Relax, mudblood. After all, that's exactly what we're out to get today.'

XXX

'You didn't mention that we were supposed to steal it,' Wera grunted several hours later in the Ministry of Magic. 'I thought you said it was Ministry business. I thought you no longer ran Death Eater errands.'

'That's the last one,' Draco assured her as they strode down the Ministry corridors as though they were not discussing theft at all. Workers ignored them when they passed by. 'It's important that I get it done right. When this is over, I'll be given my freedom. The Dark Lord himself promised me,' he lowered his voice to a whisper. 'Can you believe it? My Mark gone and everything! Imagine the life we'll live! We'll be free to get matching tattoos and everything. It'll be so great – '

'Still, I don't see why he wants you to steal him a timeturner,' Wera frowned, looking nervously around. Draco nudged her in the ribs.

'He probably wants to alter the war's outcome. Anyway, don't look so guilty! People will think we're up to something!'

'Aren't we?' Wera produced a muffled snarl. 'We're about to break into the Department of Mysteries and – '

'Nonsense, mudblood. We'll walk in. My father's taken care of the security by now,' clarified Draco, his theatrically calm voice now an iota away from an innocent whistle.

'Oh, so he's in on it too?'

'Don't worry; you'll give us away that way. We walk in, we get the thing, we walk out. It's a very simple plan.'

'It's a very stupid plan!'

'Yeah, well, none of my clever complicated plans usually work, so I see this one as practically failure-proof.'

Wera scowled at him.

'You're an idiot, you know that,' she estimated. Draco ignored her comment and proceeded idly down the Department of Mysteries' main corridor to an eerie-looking door, then placed his hand on the door knob as if he was doing nothing wrong. Wera would find the door he opened less eerie if she didn't know where it led. She had been in the pitch-black darkness of the Rotating Room before and had been there long enough to know no human being ought to meddle in the mysteries that lurked behind its doors.

'You know, I'm not sure you should give him that timeturner,' the girl stated with a louder voice once Draco had shut the door behind his back. 'With it, he could change the future of the wizarding world into something unspeakable…'

'I know it'll change our future for the better,' Malfoy retorted. 'Come on, there isn't much else I can do for now. Otherwise he'll probably kill me… Besides, do you know how much I want to finally be able to stroll into Diagon Alley and buy ice-cream, wearing a short-sleeved piece of clothing, and probably come across Potter and Crew, and stare them down arrogantly as they gawp at the absence of a Mark on my arm?' he added vigorously. 'Anyway, here we go…'

The words froze in the couple's throats as a breathtaking view of excessive space expanded before their eyes. Suddenly, it felt as though they were participating in the ways of the universe more than they should; the ground beneath their feet seemed to be thinning. Wera coughed pointedly to distract Draco from the strange sensation and – quite literally – to get him back down to earth.

The most disturbing thing in the cosmic scene was a low, fleshless voice that echoed repeatedly and hair-raisingly: "_Scorpius… Scorpius… Scorpius_…"

'Alright,' Wera said sternly, gripping Malfoy firmly by the hand, 'that's enough of Divination for today. Let's go back.'

They rushed out of the room, dizzy and less focused than usual.

'Mark the door,' Wera reminded Draco. 'I don't want us to be wasting a whole day here. The more we ponder over the mysteries in this place, the less of a chance we have to go back.'

She watched Draco scorch the door with magic, and then open a second one after the traditional for the room rotation. He hesitated before he took a step in.

'Wait,' he stopped Wera before she decided to enter. He fumbled through his pockets and took out a simple silver tea spoon. Then, he flung it into the darkness behind door number two.

There was a faint clinking sound which took longer than it was supposed to. Apparently, the floor was very far down in this one.

'That'd be the Death Chamber, if I'm not mistaken,' Wera said after a small pause. 'Do you feel like seeing dead people?'

Draco shook his head energetically.

'No,' he replied with an almost cheerful certainty. 'Let's see what the next one might contain…'

After a while, a rather unpleasant sight filled the space before them. Wera contained herself, but noticed Draco shudder with fear and revulsion. She held his hand to make him feel more secure. That's what Gryffindor girlfriends are for.

'It's brains,' she announced blankly, so as not to put her boyfriend on the edge. 'Not this one, either. Unless you'd like a brand new brain. Although, judging by your plan, you could use one,' she attempted in vain to make the young man laugh.

It didn't work.

Draco stared into the brain containers, hypnotized with terror. Wera shook him roughly to make him snap out of it. Draco swallowed hard.

'Let's just leave this place, please,' he pleaded weakly. Wera left the room with him and turned to him calmly:

'Look,' she began,' 'we didn't come here for nothing. I don't know if what you're doing is right, but I won't let you stand in the way of your own freedom. It cannot get much worse. See, this must be where they keep the prophecies – I can feel the bloody creepy whispers from here… which means the next door will lead us to the thing you need, okay?'

Draco nodded, trembling.

'Come on,' Wera continued soothingly. 'Just stay focused, and the rooms won't drag you into any kind of narcosis. Do you know the saying "Curiosity killed the Malfoy"? Let's not test it, okay? Just be a good talented thief and stick to the plan. Get in, get the timeturner, get out.'

She opened the next door to the left rashly and pushed Draco inside before he could object. Then, she followed him.

It was a place crammed from wall to wall with clocks of all kinds – and, yes, timeturners. It seemed some changes had been made to the room over the years. What was ticking in it sounded like sand rather than anything else. A magnetic, powerful and above all awe-striking sight clouded their vision. Malfoy gasped.

It was a timeturner, but not like any of the others, which were simply stored there, stacked away at random. It had its own pedestal and was the size of a small child. It was an impressive hourglass made of pure gold and the air around it sizzled with magic. If you touched it, it would probably burn.

'Whoah,' Draco uttered, fascinated by the sheer power the object undoubtedly contained. All around the hourglass, the atmosphere was crackling with energy and pressure. 'I think that's what the Dark Lord wants me to steal.'

'Draco,' Wera whispered, clearly horrified by the conclusions her mind was drawing. It was not drawing a pretty picture. 'I think this device here has the power to change time itself… not just one event… Do you have any idea what damage it can do to the world?'

'Do you have any idea what we could do with it?' Malfoy clearly wasn't terrified. His eyes were fixed greedily upon the dangerous object. Clearly, this place was getting to him. Wera groaned and reminded herself to slap him across the face later.

'You've got to be kidding me,' she began slowly, but Draco was already pressing his hands to the glass, gazing into it lovingly. The outlines of his fingers became blurry in the energy field the hourglass was radiating. 'Get away from it!' the girl warned. 'You can't control this, Draco… Perhaps not even the Dark Lord can… I mean, come on, before it's done something to you…'

She grabbed his hand again and tried to pull him away from the gigantic timeturner, but this was a big mistake. Draco was completely under its spell. He turned swiftly, pulled his hand away, clutching the hourglass, while Wera struggled to keep him away from the device. Draco pushed her fiercely aside, but her hand was still caught in his jacket; he swayed, lost his balance, tried to hold on to the nearest thing in sight and…

The sound of glass crashing and sharp, shining particles exploding in flight in every direction was almost quiet compared to the shrieks of panic both Wera and Malfoy screamed mentally when the hourglass shattered to pieces right over Wera.

The catastrophe jerked Draco out of the trance like a cold shower.

'I'm so sorry! Are you alright? Are you hurt?' he blurted out in a concerned rush. 'I didn't mean to; I swear I didn't know what I was doing…'

Wera stared him down angrily, covered in sand.

'You idiot,' she began with a slow, sarcastic snarl. 'Should have foreseen it. A small step in the wrong direction for Malfoy – a huge bloody fall for mankind!'

'I'm sorry… It was an accident…' Draco mumbled apologetically, although he looked like he was about to start laughing with helplessness.

'You're an accident! Merlin knows how much damage you've done! Not to mention the Dark Lord will kill you! But he'll have to get in line after me! Oh, stop trying to clean me up, I'm fine…'

But something was happening. The hourglass sand in Wera's feet was slowly rising around her in whirls, which spun quicker and quicker, like a small tornado around her body, and by the time Wera realized she was not standing in sand but in a wind-whirl of raw time instead, it was way too late to blame Malfoy for it.

Draco's eyes widened with horror. Before he could say anything, Wera noticed her own silhouette turn dim and transparent, wrapped within her private windstorm of time sand. She pointed a shaking accusative finger at Draco's pale as a ghost face.

'You,' she said threateningly. 'I'm gonna kill you, you dumb son of a – '

A moment later, the entire world around her faded and vanished.


	2. Chapter 2: Flashback

**Chapter two**

**Flashback**

Wera opened her eyes. She hated doing that whenever she didn't know what she was about to see. If, however slight the chances, she saw Draco Malfoy, he would be slaughtered on sight.

The first thing she felt beneath her was grass, and the first thing she saw was a blue midday sky followed by a female silhouette in a Gryffindor uniform. Great, Wera thought bitterly. At least she knew she was on Hogwarts grounds. What surprised her unpleasantly was the face attached to the silhouette. It was looking right at her.

The face belonged to Ginny Weasley.

'Bugger,' Wera uttered wearily.

'I know, I know, I don't like it either, but we need to hurry up, or we'll be late for Potions,' Ginny's face said apologetically. Then, Ginny's hand helped Wera up and Ginny herself continued to speak. 'No more lying around for you. I know you're tired after the Magical Creatures class, and so am I, but we can't miss Potions this time.'

Wera stared at Ginny like she was seeing her for the first time.

'How old do I look to you?' she frowned. Ginny frowned back.

'Young enough to walk to Potions class. If you don't move it, I'm going without you.'

Wera raised an eyebrow. She was growing increasingly irritated, but her mind was working fast. So, in Ginny's eyes, she was a student…

'Weren't you supposed to be with Harry, getting married or pregnant or something?' she ventured to ask, just in case.

'Oh, come on, not you too,' Ginny appeared exasperated and offended. 'Let's go already. Snape might tell on us. You know how badly Umbridge punishes the students for being late for class.'

The girl took the other one by the hand and pulled her rather roughly through the meadow. Wera followed mechanically, evaluating the situation.

Clearly, Malfoy was to blame – as usual. She was quickly recalling how angry she could be with him back in the days when they'd started dating. Safety rule number one in the wizarding world was "DON'T MESS WITH TIME." And now Malfoy's greed and weakness had obviously sent her back in time and, judging by what she could make out of her appearance, Wera looked just as young as Ginny Weasley now: a teenager.

Ginny had mentioned Umbridge in front of her… If Umbridge was in the school, this meant the two of them were in their fourth year of their education. It also meant there were a whole lot of stupid things going on at Hogwarts at this time. Time, cursed Wera mentally. A time problem. Brilliant. She was stuck in a place – and a time – she couldn't leave without the proper help from people she didn't know at the age of fourteen yet, she had no idea how the breaking of the Ministry hourglass would affect the world, and the Malfoy she was dating was probably being tortured to death by the Dark Lord now sometime far in the future. All in all, the situation wasn't looking too peachy. Wera decided this wasn't the right time to confess to Ginny Weasley she'd never really liked her, or her future boyfriend, for that matter.

The voices in the Ministry calling the name "Scorpius" also worried Wera. But there was neither time to worry nor to act now. She was being mercilessly dragged to Potions class. Perhaps she could ask a teacher for help. What a silly situation, Wera thought. If it hadn't been for Malfoy…

Then, unexpectedly, a second thought interrupted the first one and improved the girl's mood significantly. If Umbridge was in the school, this meant Draco was still in school too.

Wera grinned evilly to herself.

If he was in school, she'd be able to get him back for the damage he would do in the future.

XXX

Be this the past, it was still moving far too fast for Wera. She and Ginny walked into the castle, which was easy enough and brought Wera many recollections of fond memories. Walking into Potions class was not that easy at all. Thanks to Wera, they were already late, and that was never a good start in Potions class.

Wera walked into the dim classroom after Ginny did, looked around and beamed. She was thrilled to see this place again after all this time, before the war; so many familiar scents and familiar faces…

One of them was staring at Wera at that very moment. She was so happy to see a face she'd never expected to see again in her life that she greeted it with a wide joyful grin and excitedly met her favorite teacher at Hogwarts and close friend during the war Severus Snape with the sincerely overwhelmed words:

'Snape! You're alive!'

Half the students' jaws dropped in astonishment.

Snape was not in a good mood today due to disagreements with Umbridge, and this crazy remark didn't improve his mood at all. He responded to Wera's comment with a cold, sour smirk.

'Unfortunately for you, yes I am, Lynson, and, may I remind you that I am _Professor_ Snape to you,' he pointed out icily. 'I will not be spoken to like that. Five points from Gryffindor for this audacity, and ten more points for you and Miss Weasley's reluctance to show up in class on time. Sit down.'

Ginny headed to a desk in the back of the classroom, muttering Snape-related insults under her breath, and Wera followed her, oblivious to the punishment. Her confusion had turned into exhilaration. She couldn't believe it. Snape was alive; Snape, the one person in the wizarding world she'd always look up to and admire more than anyone else – still alive in this time! And he was taking points from her house! Wasn't that amazing? Wera was too happy to just be in his presence, to be able to see him again, talk to him again, just watch him sneer and be bitter again – even though they hadn't been friends back then. It was all worth it.

Just then, as she was passing the rows of desks, Wera's thoughts were interrupted by a remark shouted in her and Ginny's general direction:

'Well, well, well, what do we have here? Didn't Filch tell you it was forbidden to bring trash into the classroom?'

Wera looked up. She didn't see a face attached to the nasty remark, intended to imply the trash representatives were her and Ginny, and she didn't notice where it had come from. But she could recognize that jeering, sharp voice lazily dragging out the syllables in every offensive word anywhere.

There was a student sitting at the very back of the classroom whose face was concealed by a textbook held idly and carelessly. "Sitting", in fact, was an understatement: the student, whose anatomy clearly indicated he was a boy, was stretched in full body length over two desks and a chair, his feet crossed ostentatiously over his own desk, as if he was a king in his chambers and his chair was a throne – and the other students were servants not worth looking at. He sounded like he was infinitely bored yet wickedly satisfied with everything going on around him, which was indeed a theatrical achievement for someone his age. Wera would know who he was even if she was blindfolded. No other student was ever allowed to behave this inappropriately in Snape's classes. Besides, no boy she knew had hair this fair, and a way of speaking this annoying.

Her heart skipped a beat. She gasped quietly, and as she was passing him, coincidentally, Draco Malfoy glanced up.

Wera had expected to be mad at him the next time she saw him. She had expected to feel many things, but none of them were this warm and mushy. This was a completely different Malfoy sitting before her, and yet the very same person she loved so dearly. He had the same pointed features, the same manners and posture, the same disdainfully bored look in his eyes, the same spiteful, arrogant half-smirk; his voice, however, sounded shrill and boyish, and he appeared surprisingly shorter, compared to the way Wera remembered him at age twenty. He was ever so skinny, but his very presence in the classroom hardly left any room for the other students to breathe. He strived to appear cool, superior and intimidating, and Wera would have indeed been intimidated by this type of behavior at age fourteen, but looking upon fifteen-year-old Malfoy the nineteen-year-old on the inside Wera perceived this as so amusing it was adorable. As Draco from the past turned his young, feminine, tender pointy face to her while trying his best to make this so unfit to threaten face appear vile, the girl's face in turn acquired a wide, loving smile, which best conducted the meaning of the words: "Awwww."

Malfoy sneered at her and Ginny and said, unimpressed:

'Don't seem very happy today, do you, Weasley? It seems Potter still won't let you be his love dove. Still, congratulations on the new boyfriend,' he added mockingly, nodding in Wera's direction. 'Oh, wait, I'm sorry; is the student you entered with really a boy or a girl?'

Wera was so flabbergasted at first she didn't even realize the insult was addressed to her.

'What are you smiling at, freak, do you want to give me a kiss or something?'

Wera stood there dumbstruck, barely stifling her laughter.

'No,' she replied without thinking, the way she would normally reply to her boyfriend without hesitation, 'but as for the boy or girl thing, I was just wondering the same thing about you.'

Draco appeared taken aback for less than a second before he restored his widening smirk with increasing venomous amusement. Snape was smirking too. The entire classroom was staring at the scene.

'_Oooh_!' exclaimed Draco with sheer cruel satisfaction. 'We have a volunteer to win Slytherin the House Cup! In case you haven't noticed,' he explained with utmost boredom and a champion condescending voice to Wera, 'I'm older than you, whatever your name is, and I'm here as the teacher's assistant and therefore your supervisor. That's you see, 'cause I happen to be a prefect, and it is my duty to the school to check for inconsistencies in the behavior of younger students. So, let me see… Professor?' he called out shrilly, his voice so spoiled it could make an unprepared person feel sick. Ginny spoke out a soundless warning in Wera's direction, and Wera understood it, but it was too late. Snape was now grinning.

'Five more points from Gryffindor, Lynson,' he estimated.

'Five points from Gryffindor!' repeated infuriatingly Malfoy, echoing the professor, and grinned nastily at Wera. 'Shut your mouth, _Lynson_, and go to your seat. You're disturbing the peace in this wonderful classroom.'

Wera sat reluctantly next to Ginny, this time careful not to lose any more house points.

'What the hell is he doing here?' she hissed at the Weasley girl, puzzled.

Ginny made a face of disgust towards Draco while he wasn't looking.

'Pretending to be the boss of everyone and bullying younger students, of course. But don't talk back to him. Just ignore him, or he'll take a lot more points from you for no reason. Wait 'till we get the Cup; then we can kick his face in.'

Wera was still overwhelmed by her first encounter with young Malfoy and, most of all, entertained by it, so she didn't have any desire to kick his face in just yet. Malfoy, however, was more than determined to change this.

Five minutes later, when he was bored again, he started tearing off pieces of parchment from his Charms notes, crumpling them into small paper balls and aiming them with considerable success at Wera's head. Ginny's knuckles were white with fury. Wera, on the other hand, grew more and more irritated and weary of being a target and waited in exasperation for Draco to get tired of her lack of reaction and stop. Alas, he didn't. Occasionally, the girl would hear small greasy "tee-hee-hee"-s coming from the boy's direction from the front row of desks. Wera wished she could groan. She was used to Malfoy's general immaturity, but this was beyond anything she'd ever imagined.

On top of it all, Snape was eyeing her with indisputable disapproval. Two of her favorite people in the world were against her. To her own discontent, Wera bitterly admitted to herself that – at least until she got the situation fixed – this was turning out to be a very long flashback.


	3. Chapter 3: Problem Child

**Chapter three**

**Problem Child**

The day after Wera decided to restore her communication with Ron and Hermione (and, unfortunately, Harry, who came with the package), seeing it as there was currently no teacher she could possibly turn to about the time mix-up, or at least for a permission to browse the library's restricted section. It took just one day for her to fully realize how hard it was going to be to repair the damage Malfoy had done at the Ministry. Wera had to do her best not to alter the natural course of time in any way if she wanted to eventually return to the same future she'd left. This meant she had already made a mistake behaving unlike the girl she was at age fourteen. She was hoping that wouldn't be fatal; however, she had to impose discipline on herself in order not to do or say anything that might have an effect on anyone's future or alert anyone about it. Slipped lines like "Snape, you're alive" were out of the question from now on, which was why Wera had to go back to talking to Ron and Hermione anyway, as that was what she had been doing in her fourth year, and act like the shy, silent and insecure girl she had once been.

Soon enough, she realized she had to grit her teeth good and hard to do it. School had been, more or less, a nightmare to Wera, and she soon remembered why. It wasn't the loads of homework all the teachers took up all of her spare time with, and the extra homework she had to write for her fellow students – although the girl had forgotten how stressful and degrading that could be. It wasn't Umbridge's new regime as High Inquisitor of Hogwarts either, even though it made life for nearly all the students that year ten times more difficult. No; it was the unwritten laws of any school filled with growing teenagers. Wera found it hard to believe she had survived in school at all with the attitude of a complete loser without an ounce of self-esteem. Many students – mostly Slytherins – took great advantage of this and the only reason Wera had escaped being bullied by people like Malfoy at Hogwarts was that muggle school had taught her how to always choose the right routes to classrooms, how to recognize a potential victim hunter from a distance and how to go through the teenage society unnoticed and therefore unbothered. But this time she'd already talked back to Malfoy. He didn't scare her at all now, but still the girl had noticed that even someone with a fiery temper such as Ginny Weasley tried not to be in Malfoy's way now that he was a prefect, and currently one of Umbridge's favorites. He was the kind of person who'd abuse any little power he could get his hands on. Wera didn't think of this until late in the weekend when she was heading back to the Gryffindor common room after an exhausting homework-writing championship.

"That's it," she was thinking to herself while climbing up the familiar stairs, carrying piles of books she didn't need, "no more writing homework for other people. You're not the idiot you once were, Wera. Life is complicated enough as it is."

Ron and Hermione were probably already in the common room with Harry, and though Wera didn't enjoy his or Ginny's company, she was hoping to get information from either of the four of them about curious matters now that the weekend had started. She needed to get to them before it was too late in the evening to talk to them. Alas, reaching the common room was not as easy a task as she'd imagined.

At the top of the stairs, just in front of the door that would lead Wera to the hallway with the Fat Lady portrait, a figure was standing. In fact, it was leaning lazily, with excessive flair and aplomb, one hand placed on the door frame, as if it was posing for "Witch Weekly"'s male model section. Wera sighed. She mentally counted to three until she heard Malfoy's slow self-complacent voice pierce the air:

'This way, Gryffindors…' the unpleasant sound echoed. 'For a small fee, of course… Hexes for first-years, nothing serious, not to worry, we'll be gentle…'

Wera paced by quickly in the spirit of her fourteen-year-old self, hoping the snotty brat would not sense the smell of a potential victim with special bonuses for familiarity. She tried to slip unnoticed underneath the Slytherin's arm, but Malfoy was alert and on the prowl and his other pale arm caught her by the uniform, pulling her back and making her face her opponent. Wera cursed herself for not making a run for it.

Malfoy's grin was so wide you'd think it was the happiest day of his life. He remained silent for a while, as to derive maximal satisfaction from the shade of misfortune on the girl's face; then said, in the same greasy, unbearably overdone voice:

'I don't remember telling you it was okay to pass through this door, _Lynson_.'

Bugger, Wera thought. He had remembered that comment of hers in Potions class.

'Oh, come on, I don't have the time for this,' she sighed helplessly, struggling in vain with the boy's firm location in front of the door frame, but she couldn't push him away, no matter how hard she tried. After all, in this time, she was just a skinny fourteen-year-old girl. Her current appearance wasn't exactly helping her to intimidate Malfoy, either.

'I, on the other hand, couldn't care less as I am in the middle of performing my duties as a prefect,' the boy retorted, infuriatingly calm. He pointed to the badge on his chest to indicate his position, but all Wera could notice was the tasteless white T-shirt he was wearing, decorated with a picture of an enormous and vicious-looking black-green snake. His Slytherin necktie was falling freely over it, and Wera was amazed that even in this horrid choice of rebellious teenage clothing Malfoy managed to pull off an air of coolness and appear elegant. This didn't make her forget, however, that he was still a complete git who could get her into a lot of trouble if she didn't behave.

'The last time I checked, you were the prefect of Slytherin house,' Wera replied with an even voice, determined to play her younger loser self to the end. 'Surely you should be watching over your own common room, and not Gryffindor's. Now if you'll excuse me – '

'Prefect Parkinson is currently supervising the Slytherin dungeons,' Malfoy interrupted her sharply and stretched to the limit of his abilities in the door frame. 'I, on the other hand, have the difficult task to ensure that the disorder in school is kept to a minimum even in the dump that is the rather poorly organized house of Gryffindor,' he finished with devastatingly professional irony. Wera frowned.

'And how does disorder include my walking into my own common room, if I may ask?' the girl tried to keep her tone within the borders of average politeness, but she was certain, judging by the devilish glimmer in Malfoy's eyes, that even if she stood in front of him cooing "Bunnies! Bunnies! Bunnies!", he'd still find a way to start an argument with her. His smile became curled, and his posture more daring.

Gosh, Wera thought mid-irritation, he must really think himself so cool. Malfoy's manners were simultaneously threatening and coquettish. He was probably the only person in school who could pull this off. He clearly needed to appear attractive to his enemies. His body language was sending out signals that most Gryffindor girls were blind to.

'First off,' Draco began lazily as usual, starting to circle Wera like a vulture, as if he was inspecting her for flaws, 'if I may say so – no offense meant, of course – your entire being is a vision of chaos and disorder, Lynson. Let me see… ghastly choice of cheap, worn-out clothes… poorly matched colors – especially the red and yellow on your tie there... Hermione Granger hairstyle, silly, helpless expression, unpleasant walk, loser posture, an annoying habit of pointlessly carrying books everywhere you go… What else? I'm afraid I can't let you in this late in the evening, Lynson,' Draco concluded with theatrically faked regret. 'People would think a boggart crept into their dormitory and panic.'

Years had passed since Wera would let such a remark get to her. She was tired of hearing such things about herself and knew that, to an extent, Malfoy wasn't lying about the shortcomings of her fourteen-year-old looks. She was therefore surprised to hear her own mouth voice out the seemingly innocent words:

'Well, what can I say – nobody's perfect, prefect Malfoy. I myself would have commented on that huge fearsome snake printed on your shirt – and ask if you were perhaps compensating for something, – but I was worried that I might hurt your feelings.'

Bugger, bugger and bugger again! Who was she trying to impress? What was she trying to prove? What was it about Malfoy that always made her try to be so destructively witty?

Malfoy's smirk vanished quicker than Wera's hopes not to get in trouble. His eyes narrowed and became cold and vile. When he spoke again, he spoke to her face with venom:

'I should have known you're not very bright, Lynson, what with you trailing after the award-winning Gryffindor loser crew,' the prefect sneered with contempt. 'Otherwise you'd know not to talk back to the wrong people. Ten points from Gryffindor for disrespecting a prefect… and believe me, losing house points is far from the worst thing that'll be happening to you from now on.'

Wera responded to the threat – unwisely – with an exasperated groan.

'I was talking about a Mark, okay?' she rolled her eyes in the direction of the ceiling, hopelessly trying to sort out the mess she'd just gotten herself into. 'Compensating for your lack of a Dark Mark, not a – ' She was only making it worse. 'What with you talking of certain people's rise to power all around the school and…'

'I assure you,' Draco did his best to make his fifteen-year-old voice cut like a knife, 'that it is only a matter of time before your remark is no longer valid, Lynson,' he hissed maliciously in the girl's ear. 'Soon enough, like you said, "certain people" _will_ have the upper hand, and when the time comes for them to clean the world of all kinds of dirty-blooded scum like you, I will be right by their side, mark my words…'

In the back of her head, Wera's desperately working brain warned her against retorting wearily "I know" and therefore disrupting the very fabric of time with one single remark. She didn't say a word this time.

Draco, however, was just getting started.

'…so I'd advise you to think about who you're dealing with here,' the prefect threatened. 'If you keep on trying to be smart with me, your future won't be very bright… or long, for that matter.'

"Can't be bright when I'm dating you in it," Wera thought instantly, but swallowed that comment as well.

'Lost for words, are we?' Malfoy snarled.

'Yeah,' Wera decided to switch to a safer defense strategy. 'Completely. I get the hint, no more messing with you. So can I just leave now, 'cause…'

But Malfoy was pulling something out of his schoolbag and, for a brief moment, Wera expected him to draw out his wand. Instead, he took out a small, exquisite – but still threatening enough – knife, its handle engraved with what Wera assumed were ancient pureblood family symbols, and pressed it gently to her throat before she could react.

Wera was taken by surprise to the extent that she forgot to be scared.

'What?' she smiled in clear disbelief. 'Are you serious? Don't tell me: what's next, the price to pay to enter the Gryffindor dormitory is three drops of dirty blood? Come on!'

The girl remained calm only because she knew Draco too well. It had been the same in muggle school where the older students occasionally threatened her with razorblades of knives just to appear cool and powerful. Malfoy wouldn't do a thing with this knife, even though Wera could feel the blade now pressing closer to her skin. Besides, she knew how to disarm him if she had to, but it'd get her into even more trouble.

'Not yet, mudblood,' Malfoy replied in a low, hate-laden voice, sounding completely determined to harm her, and in his mind perhaps he believed he could do it. 'And not here. But you should watch your mouth – and your back from now on, because you don't know me. You underestimate me, Lynson. You don't know how far I can go… especially when given a little push…' he hissed with poisonous, freezing malice in the girl's ear in the darkness of the door frame. 'One day something might happen that'll wipe your pretty little face clean off – and believe me, the mess you are now will be pretty compared to what you'll look like once I've – '

'_MALFOY_!' someone shouted sharply. Wera jumped, startled, and nearly slit her own throat that way. That steely voice contained ten times more threat than the blade in Draco's hand.

It was Snape's voice.

The two main participants in the scene froze on the spot and stared, petrified, at the Potions Master, who was descending down the stairs on the right and was looking increasingly enraged.

Malfoy's knife vanished behind his back as quickly as if he'd made it disappear with magic. But it was too late; Snape had seen the whole thing. The professor loomed over the two guilt-stricken students, dressed in black from head to toe and piercing them with an unyielding, murderous stare. Wera knew that, as much as she was fond of Snape, she wouldn't stop being scared of him even when she turned fifty.

'Mister Malfoy, your authority as a prefect does not extend to the privilege of executing students yet,' Snape uttered icily. 'He didn't even need to raise his voice. Malfoy lost his cool immediately.

'But, Professor, please…' his voice abruptly switched to pleading mode, 'it was – it was just a joke…'

'Then I am afraid I have no sense of humor,' Snape retorted evenly, but it was evident he was furious on the inside. 'I don't care if you're a prefect, Malfoy. Detention in my office tomorrow afternoon, of I will relieve you of your prefect duties. Don't moan about it; be thankful it's not detention with Professor Umbridge. Lynson,' Snape turned to Wera coldly, 'you may go.'

Wera breathed out with relief and a sense of justification.

'Thanks, Severus, you're the man,' she said, once again, without thinking, and immediately regretted it.

'On second thought, detention for you too, Lynson, for addressing me as "Severus" and "the man". Tomorrow afternoon, in my office. Let's see if at least one of you will learn to behave… although I sincerely doubt it.'

He strode off grimly from the scene and left Malfoy dumbstruck and Wera feeling positively stupid. Not only had she done exactly what she was supposed not to, but this detention would waste her much precious time in the weekend to try and find something about travelling forward in time. For now, the only place she could travel to was Snape's office, to scrub Flobberworms off desks when she would much rather be wiping Malfoy's victorious grin off his face.

It seemed Draco wasn't feeling bad about being punished now that he wasn't the only one.

'See you tomorrow, Lynson,' he said to Wera menacingly. 'I hope you'll bring your pride along as well. You'll need something worthless to scrub the desks with.'

XXX

Someone had to change the way the teenage society worked, Wera was thinking sourly the day after. Although she'd sworn not to care about the way anyone in school treated her, she was beginning to feel as bad as she had at age fourteen again. The reason for this was that nearly all of Gryffindor house was now mad at her for losing them thirty house points in two days. All of them, except Harry. That made her feel even worse.

'It's Malfoy's fault,' he concluded without hesitation, and Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement. 'Someone has to stand up to him even though he's a prefect.'

'I say we drown the slick git in the Black Lake when no one's watching,' Ron suggested innocently.

'You should be careful, Wera,' Hermione advised her with genuine concern. 'Don't forget all the Slytherins are close to Umbridge. You're lucky it's not her punishment you'll have to endure. I can't believe Malfoy threatened you with a knife,' she added.

'I can,' Ron said. 'Pretending to be all gutsy – which he isn't.'

'He implied that I was pretty,' Wera muttered hollowly, 'even though he made it sound like an insult. And even though I'm not.'

'What? I didn't hear you.'

'Oh, nothing, just talking to myself. I said: "Oh, what a _pity_ I won't get to attack him with more _insults_."

'Please, Wera,' Ginny implored. 'We all hate Malfoy, but don't piss him off more than the rest of us, because then we'll be in last place in the House Championship this year.'

'Yeah. No problem. I'll do my best.'

But Wera wasn't thinking about this, about time, or any of the thought she'd planned to be thinking right now. She was thinking about Malfoy.

To say the least, she was disappointed, albeit not surprised, to see him act like the ultimate pubescent jerk. Secretly, she'd expected to see more of the man she loved in fifteen-year-old Draco. But those traits were nowhere to be seen. The biggest and most important trauma of Draco's life – the horror of being a Death Eater –had not taken place yet in order to make him see right from wrong and acquire the depth of personality that would later give him a chance to develop as something more than an arrogant bully. Still, something in Wera's soft heart compelled her to think of excuses for the way he behaved. "He's just a problem child, that's all. Boys will be boys," she thought stubbornly. But, on the other hand, what if – and Wera shuddered at the very possibility of it – Draco had never possessed anything of what she loved about him to being with, and the sole reason he'd later become a tolerable person was the tragedy in his life at the age of sixteen? Was it really nothing but the circumstances that had made him who he was, who she grew to love? Had it really been circumstances alone that had brought them together? Would he even care for someone like her if he hadn't gone through any of that pain? Would he otherwise stay a git forever and was anything of what Wera loved even real? Somewhere, she knew, destiny was laughing at her. She'd known this day would come sooner or later.

The rising disappointment turned into rage in Wera's mind because, as usual, she estimated, this was all Malfoy's fault. In accordance with the course of time or not, she wouldn't stand this attitude passively a day longer. If she did, she'd eventually grow to hate everything Draco ever was. Besides, she was determined to find out the truth about her future boyfriend's personality. First and foremost, if she was now his target – and she knew he wouldn't quit any time soon, – she wouldn't make it easy for him to pick on her. Hermione Granger hairstyle? Silly, helpless expression? She'd be damned if she let the love of her life look upon her this way again, in the past, present, or future. Wera would act like a Malfoy in the battle against Malfoy – impress your enemies. Sure, at the age of fourteen she wasn't half as good-looking as she was at age nineteen. But – unlike then – she knew now how to play the impression game, especially against an opponent like Draco.

In the muggle world, she'd need money to be able to carry out her newborn plan. Here, however, she had a wand, and the knowledge of a nineteen-year-old witch.

All she needed was a little magic.


	4. Chapter 4: This One's For Malfoy

**Chapter four**

**This One's For Malfoy**

When Draco Malfoy entered the Potions classroom the day after, Snape wasn't in the room. This was a relief. The professor had seriously told him off the previous day about what had happened, and Draco still felt a bit shaken about it. Snape was not at all like the heads of the other houses. When a student from another house threatened another student with a knife, the head of the house accountable for the student yelled at them and gave them detention. Snape, apart from those two things, gave you a profound speech on the true meaning and cost of homicide and death, followed by a long and detailed mental guide trip to Azkaban so that the guilty student could fully _understand_ the possible consequences of their actions. Snape used the Slytherins' vivid imagination to make them picture the most horrid outcomes of the wrongdoings they were punished for. Few knew that Slytherins feared Snape as much as anyone else. And the more they feared him, the more they admired him, the more they loved him and the better they became at bending the school rules in order to escape the consequences he was alerting them about. Every Slytherin student wanted to be like Snape one day.

Draco, however, didn't have this particular desire right now. He was still feeling bad about the conversation with the professor, so the less Snape he had in his life today, the better. He'd been thinking about that conversation too much since. The thought of slitting a young girl's throat and watching her bleed to death in his arms was, naturally, horrifying to Draco. (Now, the thought of Potter's death was an entirely different thing.) The problem was he alone knew he wasn't really intending to do it. If he was, he'd probably be disappointed with himself. It's a display of bad taste, to say the least, his father and mother would say. Deep inside, Draco wasn't feeling guilty about the practical joke. But after Snape's criticism, the boy decided to only stick to jokes the true meaning of which people would get. Of course, nothing could stop him from verbally assaulting anyone he had the power and desire to offend. But a sight in the middle of the classroom made him rearrange his plans to rehearse potential insults while waiting for Snape to return.

There was a student of the female variety sitting at one of the desks, writing something. Her back was facing Malfoy and, to the extent he could examine her appearance, Draco was surprised to find her very appealing – and not in the sense in which most non-Slytherin students used that word. The girl's looks responded to a dark side of Draco's mentality and to another, hidden side of it, one he normally didn't enjoy sharing with others.

A long story short, if Snape had an exceptionally attractive daughter, that'd probably be her. As far as Draco could see, the girl was dressed in black all the way. Not that "dressed" was a word appropriate for her outfit – unless it was used as part of the word "underdressed". The girl was wearing a very insufficient black top and a black skirt much shorter than the standard Hogwarts skirt, matched with a skulled silver chain and a leather belt. Her attire revealed more than it concealed of her pale skin and her small, slender body. Her hair was falling long, straight and the color of dark chocolate over her slim, pale back. The girl's fingernails were painted black and made her elegant hands appear even gentler; and, if Draco could not see her face, he'd notice her eyes were heavily outlined with black make-up, all the blackness disrupted only by the crimson lipstick that stood out on the background of her snow white face like blood and made her beauty exquisitely dark and tragic. Draco hesitated, mainly because he was oddly fond of such darkness. He'd seen and appreciated this type of beauty on at least a dozen chocolate frog cards of Morgana and other dark witches. Of course, usually not even the Slytherin girls had the courage to show up in class looking like this. Draco instinctively slicked his hair back, oblivious to the fact that he had a girlfriend, and immediately thought of something clever to say when, suddenly, the girl turned her face to him. The clever words froze in his throat when he saw a Gryffindor tie on the vision in black.

'You're right,' Wera said to him through her blood red lipstick with the cruelest smile a fourteen-year-old could muster, 'the red and yellow _does_ ruin the color balance for me.'

Draco raised an eyebrow; maybe even two. He was completely unprepared to see someone he hated looking good. That was the second time this was happening.

'Ten points from Gryffindor, Lynson,' he fired automatically to conceal his embarrassment.

Wera fluttered her eyelashes against him, unimpressed.

'Ten?' she asked innocently. 'What for?'

'For looking completely unacceptable, as usual,' Draco prompted with a crooked smile, but it didn't escape Wera's attention that his eyes, for a fraction of a second, involuntarily scanned her figure up and down. 'The school's policy does not allow trolls _or_ trollops on Hogwarts territory. And it seems you inevitably choose to look like one or the other.'

'Oh, I'm really terribly sorry,' Wera's face attempted to convey innocence and remorse, but the dark make-up ruined it all. 'I was merely aiming to express my musical preferences. I had no idea that this was a crime on Hogwarts territory.'

'Hah!' Malfoy sneered, ready for a counter-attack. 'Are you sure you're not stepping out of your league, Lynson? I wonder what the other Gryffindors will have to say about your outfit…'

'I didn't know there was a house rule against being a fan of The Black Banshees,' the girl replied calmly. 'Surely you've heard of The Black Banshees… or maybe they're a bit too heavy for your tender ears…'

Draco nearly blushed. He _did_ listen to The Black Banshees, whose music many of his Slytherin peers defined as "real dark wizard music", as opposed to The Weird Sisters' clean light rock. But he would never admit he had a common interest with a mudblood. Anyway, she was probably just testing him. There was no way she _really_ listened to The Black Banshees.

He sat next to Wera on her own desk to taunt her from up close, but then Snape entered before Draco could respond with a proper comeback.

'There isn't much to explain,' Snape muttered blankly, giving the girl's outfit a brief insightful rather than disgusted glance. 'The potion leftovers are in the cauldrons by the blackboard. Clean them up without magic. Two extra cauldrons for you, Lynson, for disrespecting the school with the length of your skirt – if you call this a skirt. I'll be back in one hour to see the results. If you try to cheat, I'll know. And if you're gone when I come back, you'll be in detention for the rest of your lives. Am I clear?'

A lot of scrubbing ensued when Snape left, it wasn't made any easier by Malfoy's constant – and successful – attempts to hit Wera with various revolting potion ingredients he threw at her. Thanks to him the Potions classroom soon looked like a cross between a battlefield, a kitchen and a cesspit. Wera was forced to work five times harder in order to fix the damage Draco was doing. At some point, she was so angry she resorted to leaning over the cauldrons excessively, hoping her short skirt would distract Draco from his ingredient-throwing exercise, but, alas, that didn't stop him. Meanwhile, he kept mocking her and taking points from her for not working fast enough, for being a mudblood, and for dressing up so provocatively today. Wera wished in vain he'd shut up for a single second.

'How come your private partner prefect Parkinson gets to wear all the short skirts she wants to, and I don't?' she snarled after a forty-five-minute battle with Flobberworms, octopus tentacles, rat tails and frog intestines. 'Is that a prefect privilege?'

'No, that's a Slytherin privilege, mudblood, and you're a lousy Gryffindor, so you don't get to try to be one of the cool guys,' Draco smirked maliciously.

'You're implying my clothes look cool, then?'

'I said that you _try_, mudblood, and trying often involves failing. You ought to be used to that.' The boy cast another wicked grin her way. Wera was getting weary of playing this scene out over and over.

'Not as much as you're used to failure to win a Quidditch game, Malfoy,' she said distractedly in response and, just for the sake of satisfaction, flung a dead Flobberworm in the direction of his face. 'I bet you a million billion galleons that you'll lose this year's match with Gryffindor _and_ with Hufflepuff – and that's really saying something!'

Malfoy gasped; then, almost immediately, started laughing.

'What? Hufflepuff?' he exclaimed mockingly. 'That band of good-for-nothing numbskulls? Aren't you the joker! I bet _you_ a million billion galleons that you'll be dead within the first few seconds of the beginning of the New World Order!'

Wera shrugged impassively and turned towards the last cauldron left to scrub.

'All I'm saying,' she said coldly over her shoulder, 'is that you win when you start winning, and you lose when you start losing. The game is yours when you're motivated, but when the opponent is giving you a beating, when you're really under pressure… let's just say you just can't take a hit.'

'Excuse me?' Malfoy jeered again, but his voice sounded slightly shriller which indicated he didn't enjoy constructive criticism. 'Can't take a hit? Do you have any idea who you're talking to?'

Ah, the old "who you're talking to" situation. Wera sighed. She almost felt sorry for him.

'Believe it or not, I don't want to see your team lose – although they'll be doing that a lot this year,' she said, 'but I stand firmly by my opinion. Take as many points as you like. You can't take a hit, Malfoy.'

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. He was growing indignant and angry once again – not only because the Gryffindor had the audacity to say that to his face, but mainly due to the fact that this was exactly what many of his fellow Slytherins were saying behind his back.

'Oh yeah?' he sneered. 'I'd like to see _you_ take a hit, Lynson.'

Wera smiled.

'Not a problem,' she prompted cheerfully. 'I'm very experienced at this. Hit me.'

'What?' Draco abandoned his cauldron, taken aback.

'Hit me.'

'That's very clever, Lynson. It'd be a sight to see – a prefect hitting a girl. Wouldn't you like to get me into trouble! As tempted as I am to hit you, I'm not thick enough to fall into your little trap.'

Wera smacked him hard across the face. Malfoy stood there, astonished and blushing, as he wasn't prepared for that slap. Neither was Wera. She'd done it without thinking, without a warning, just like that. Malfoy had always inspired her to be violent. Perhaps she'd hit him to get him back for everything she had expected him to be that he wasn't. A part of her was quickly becoming disenchanted with her image of him, especially when Draco looked straight at her with utmost malice and vengefulness. She was shocked to see him look so evil.

'You really crossed the line this time, mudblood,' he hissed and Wera trembled for the first time at the vile, tainted sound of the offensive word with which he once had – once, in the future – addressed her lovingly. 'You're getting on my nerves far too much these days. I don't care if I'll lose house points. I'll show you who can't take a hit...'

With these venomous words, he swung spitefully at her and, to Wera's surprise and disappointment, did something he had never done to her before, in the past or in the future: he attempted to strike her, for real, without a hint of harmless jesting. This wasn't an act of fooling around gone too far. He actually intended to cause her pain and humiliation, and to derive satisfaction from it. The girl saw the ferocious glimmer in his eyes. She caught his hand as he swung at her, but to her it was as if he had already struck her.

Malfoy failed to react, confused by the half-frightened and half-aggrieved look in Wera's eyes. It was at that moment that hasty footsteps were heard approaching. The Potions classroom door flew open and Snape, walking in with Umbridge, stood dumbstruck before the unexpected sight. Draco and Wera froze on the spot.

Umbridge let out a tiny squeak.

'What is this?' she exclaimed shrilly, looking as if she was about to lose consciousness. 'Snape? Would you mind explaining this atrocity to me?'

Snape raised an eyebrow impassively.

'They're serving detention,' he muttered, reluctant to react to any of the High Inquisitor's demands. It seemed that Umbridge was on the verge of going insane.

'Detention!' Her voice was now thinner than Snape's general patience. 'Is that what you see, Snape? I see a prefect being assaulted by a student in horrid… offensive… _revolting_ apparel!' she shrieked. 'This is truly monstrous! A disgrace! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in, young lady?'

Wera glanced helplessly at Snape. He said nothing in her defense. His expression was blank and unreadable. A second before Umbridge's psychotic triumph, however, Malfoy's voice rose through the suffocating silence.

'There's no need, Madam… I started the argument.'

His voice was completely unlike his usual one: it was guilty, reconciled, imploring. Wera could not believe her ears.

'I lost my temper because of the way she was flaunting her rebelliousness all over the school, corrupting the younger children,' Malfoy continued submissively, his voice ever so prudent. 'Said she was a great fan of The Black Banshees, a most foul and cynical hard rock band, which plants ideas of riot and mayhem into the youth's impressionable minds. She was preparing to host a secret Black Banshee-themed party in the Gryffindor dormitories just to make you look like a fool, Madam,' Malfoy assured Umbridge, looking most aggrieved. 'We cannot afford to have any more chaos in this school. And between us, Madam… she was planning to invite the girls into the _boys'_ dormitory, can you imagine the corruption…'

'Is that so?' Umbridge looked like a balloon that was about to burst. 'Is that true, girl?' she squealed out with indignation in her shrillest voice yet, barely breathing.

Wera didn't have much to say in her defense. With her current appearance, Malfoy's version of the story wasn't hard to believe. And even if it was, it was a well-known fact Umbridge was just looking for people to bully.

The girl let Umbridge drag her out of the classroom by the hand while grimly watching Malfoy wave at her with a heartless smirk on his face. Snape, on the other hand, had the same intent insightful stare focused on her once again. At least he had a sense of what's fair, Wera thought gloomily.

She didn't feel the least bit afraid while she was being led to Umbridge's office for a punishment. It was all the same to her. She was truly beginning to despise Malfoy. He'd never been this mean to her, and she'd never suspected she'd fallen in love with someone who had ever been this rotten. Had she ever known Draco at all? Had he chosen her in the future because he hadn't had a choice? Was there a point in going back at all?

Twenty minutes later, Wera took Umbridge's special quill almost impatiently, eager to use the physical pain as a distraction from the emotional one, watching with a feeling close to satisfaction the words "_I must not cause chaos_" appear in blood on her right hand while she put them down on the parchment with the left one. She sighed, shook her head in desperation, took the quill with her wounded hand and wrote, for no particular reason, "_This one's for Malfoy_" a couple of times. Moments later, her left hand acquired the same scarlet words carved deep into its skin. Contrary to what Wera was hoping for, they didn't make her feel better. The person she was writing it for didn't exist – at least not yet. Or maybe he had never existed…

The Malfoy that currently existed was waiting for her patiently outside Umbridge's office. He instantly started a verbal attack on Wera when she passed him on the way out.

'Lynson! Hey, Lynson! How was the punishment party? I bet it was _bloody_ brilliant, wasn't it? Oh, come on, what's the matter, Lynson? Can't take a hit?'

Wera turned to him morbidly. She saw his vicious grin and felt hollow inside.

'No, but I hope you can read,' she said, unable to hide her disappointment. She raised her left hand, arranged its fingers into a traditional insulting gesture and waved it in front of Draco's face so that he'd see clearly the words still glistening in blood: "_This one's for Malfoy._" His smile faded, but it didn't disappear.

'Lovely,' he muttered coldly. 'Did you think it up yourself?'

Wera stifled a sob, pushed Malfoy out of her way and ran for the safety of the Gryffindor common room. Clearly, the future held nothing real for her, and the past was not what she remembered it to be. There was only the present, and in it she was alone, just as alone as she'd been at the age of fourteen, just as alone as she'd felt all her life. For the first time in many years, she felt the full burden of the despair that had been chasing after her most of her unpleasant life. When she was back in bed at the dormitory, Wera cried and shed tears of genuine pain, pain that never seemed to end for her completely and would never quite let go of her. Pain, her only truly consistent lover.

If she was playing the part of her breakable, vulnerable former self, she thought bitterly later that night, she was doing one hell of a good job of it.


	5. Chapter 5: The Winners

**Chapter five**

**The Winners**

From this day on, school life became the hell it once had been for Wera. Her disappointment with Draco was not easy to forget and get over, especially since he always seemed to be there to reopen the wounds. He followed her frequently, appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, to mock her, criticize her, embarrass her, rejoice at her failures or take more points from Gryffindor on the basis of her being, for instance, in a bad mood. Wera wanted to be strong and not to care, but she had no other mood but a bad one to be in. Half the Gryffindors already hated her for having lost them so many house points over Malfoy. The Slytherins didn't take too kindly to her, either. Hermione's support couldn't do much to cheer her up, and Harry was too consumed with his own problems with Dumbledore's Army and what not. Over time, Wera stopped bothering to try to look good, pretend to be in a good mood or be communicative. The more Draco witnessed her fall, the more he expressed his satisfaction out loud. Wera would pass him by without even talking back. There was no point in it. To Draco, Wera Lynson was already on the same list as Harry Potter – the people he hated list.

'I have to say, I find it all too much, all that Dark Lord hype,' he was saying out loud in the Slytherin common room every now and then, surrounded by his usual audience. 'This idea is really old anyway. I wouldn't follow him, you know,' he bragged thoughtlessly in front of Pansy Parkinson and the rest of his admirers. 'If I ever met him, I'd actually ask _him_ to follow _me_.'

Making fans and bullying students – that was shaping up to be his best year yet. The only thing that could make it any better for him was if Slytherin won the upcoming Quidditch match against Gryffindor.

Then, he'd finally get to shove his worth down everyone's throats.

XXX

The evening before the Gryffindor – Slytherin match was one of the tensest for every Gryffindor and Slytherin this year. This applied exceedingly for Draco Malfoy, especially due to the fact that he had a lot of perfecting to do that very same evening. He was walking the corridors of the school some time after sunset, imposing fictional order upon innocent students, and his anxiety about the upcoming game drove him to take it all out on pupils from all the three rival houses. Pansy Parkinson was striding beside him with pride and satisfaction and watched his violent outbursts with amusement.

'Wow, did you see the face on that Ravenclaw girl?' she exclaimed cruelly when they decided to head back to the common room after the patrolling. 'She looked like she was about to cry. Bet she wasn't smart enough to see that coming! Or, maybe, she couldn't see a solution to the problem due to her overgrown nose!'

Her laughter, shrill and overdone, not unlike Malfoy's, rang through the hallway.

'She deserved it!' Draco muttered spitefully after a distracted pause, even though he wasn't sure about whether that was true or not. He was too consumed with grim thoughts about the game. 'They ought to learn to respect and fear our kind. They ought to know the strong ones from the weak ones.'

If Pansy Parkinson was really good at something, it was nurturing Draco's malevolent side.

'Have you imagined,' she began with a blissful voice, clinging closer to her distant-looking boyfriend, 'that one day you'd become the ruler of everything? Can you picture us – king and queen of everything and everyone, with no one there to stand in our way?'

She had many clever ways to stimulate Malfoy's megalomania. It was one of the reasons he'd chosen her to be his girlfriend.

'Soon enough,' he said ominously. 'You'll see one day people like us will stand up and claim the power they deserve, and if we're on the winning team, it won't be long before the weak and stupid ones crawl at our feet. Mark my words…'

'But we _are_ on the winning team, Draco,' Pansy turned to him encouragingly. She was trying her best to prove herself responsive and capable of satisfying all of his needs, even though she didn't know what he was talking about most of the time. Draco had no clue how hard a task this was for her.

'What are you trying to say?' he retorted sharply. 'Do you think I don't know that?'

Pansy lowered her head before his manic stare.

'I just meant to say we're Slytherins,' she replied. 'We're the most powerful and highest-scoring Hogwarts house in history. And we won't let that hideous loser Potter stand in the way of our time-honored tradition.'

Draco frowned at her, now becoming slightly paranoid with pre-Quidditch pressure.

'Are you implying that I – that we might not win this game or what?'

'Relax, of course I think you'll win,' Pansy assured him. 'You're the most talented player on the team. On _all_ teams,' she added reassuringly, just so she could get a scrap of his approval. 'We're sure to win this time.'

'I know that,' Malfoy said obstinately.

Truth was, he didn't know this at all. Chances were the usual would happen – Potter would make a fool out of him, again. That wasn't just the forecast of people like that mudblood freak Lynson; many of the older Slytherins were of the opinion that he, Malfoy, was the team's weak link. One of the main reasons Draco stuck with Pansy, apart from finding her visually irresistible, was that she was good for his self esteem. Yes, she was really shallow, annoying, constantly gossiping about pointless things, incapable of handling a deep conversation and, in most cases, downright stupid – but that was one of the thing Draco valued in her. For instance, she was probably the only Slytherin girl stupid enough to believe that he was actually flawless – and that was worth bearing through all of her conversations about nail polish and other people's relationships. Pansy saw in him what she wanted to see – and that was the same thing that he wanted to be: a strong, capable, ruthless, cunning and, of course, infinitely attractive Slytherin boy who, in the Slytherin spirit, would let nothing and no one stand in his way to achieving his goals. And she thus inspired him to try to live up to her expectations. The meaner he was, the more unfair he was, and the more inventive he was in thinking of ways to make the lives of the enemy students a nightmare – the more Pansy was attracted to him, and the better she made him feel about himself. In her eyes, he was a winner. Draco was hoping she'd forever remain blind to the fact that most other Slytherins more and more frequently whispered about him what he hoped wasn't true: that Malfoy was really nothing but a little wimp, pretending to be one of the big guys. Draco knew that if he dwelled on that, he'd never achieve anything but failure in life. That was why every day he tried to be meaner, stronger, colder. He knew that predators could smell the weak from afar.

Pansy was perhaps stupid, but even she wasn't blind to what his current facial expression was conveying.

'Look, I know you're worried about the game tomorrow,' she held his hand in hers, and Draco scoffed, because he hated being felt sorry for, 'but there's no need. I believe in you, hot stuff. You'll do great. Besides, with that amazing King Weasley song you came up with, Gryffindors don't stand a chance.'

The tension in Malfoy's gut decreased slightly.

'Have you been practicing singing it?' he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. 'With the girls?'

'Of course, hot stuff,' Pansy said soothingly and her face acquired an ambiguous smirk. 'That's not all I've prepared for, mind you. Come here – I want to show you something.'

Malfoy followed her down the hallway, intrigued. This was clearly one of the good days in their relationship.

'In here,' Pansy urged excitedly.

'But… it's a broom cupboard.'

'Indeed… we must not be seen. We're prefects, remember?'

'Um… you wanted to show me something?' Draco asked, seemingly impassive, but he had a very clear idea of the type of surprise Pansy was preparing for him.

'Yes,' she nodded with a rather charming dirty grin. The girl caught her fellow prefect by his Slytherin necktie, pulled him closer to her and kissed him passionately. Then, she did it again and again, letting her hands wander freely over her boyfriend's uniform. After twenty minutes of serious snogging, Malfoy was certain he was way ahead of Potter, if not at Quidditch, then certainly in his private life.

'This was just for motivation,' Pansy said, breathless, adjusting her own uniform after the spontaneous event. 'You win this game tomorrow, and there'll be a lot more that I'll show you tomorrow night. A _lot_ more. All you have to do is catch that snitch, hot stuff… and you might be rewarded beyond your wildest expectations.'

She played with his tie for a while longer and compelled him to follow her to the common room with an enticing gesture. Draco, being a true Slytherin at heart, was not appalled but rather fascinated by Pansy's manipulative strategy in their relationship, the way she played to his teenage weaknesses to achieve the result she wanted. She was shallow, but she knew all the dirty tricks in the book – and that was admirable in itself. Draco was unusually impressed. In ten to fifteen years, he thought, he might even fall in love.

Pansy's tempting promise filled him with determination to win this game. He wasn't going to try his best to do it just for that, though – he wanted to see the look on her face when he finally proved to the entire school that he was, undoubtedly, one of the winners.

XXX

Naturally, they lost in a truly ridiculous fashion. Malfoy's hand was an inch away from the snitch and that made the loss even more humiliating, not to mention the mad cheers from the Gryffindor team supporters, which was, more or less, the entire school. Draco knew his father would be pissed and he'd start numerous rows with his wife on that basis, and the boy dreaded what the Slytherin team would do to him after yet another lost game of Quidditch. When a the actions of a Gryffindor team member led to the team's failure, the rest of the team would be gloomy for a while and then say to the poor player something of the "nobody blames you" variety. If the same thing happened in Slytherin, however, Slytherins would give the weak link of the team good hard private beatings for a week. To make matters worse, this time the Gryffindors had beat them to it.

Malfoy was lying on a bed in the hospital wing, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying not to think about anything. If he did, he'd probably break down. His jaw was still aching, and he felt like he had a thousand bruises. That was just his luck, Draco thought grimly. Say a few offensive words just to blow off some steam after the loss and Potter and that Weasley beater will decide to kick your – well, beat you black and blue.

He knew he was drama-queening again, and he knew he was overreacting. He was, after all, the weak link in the team, the skinny little good-for-nothing daddy's boy Malfoy, that wimp. He knew it, and Pansy lavishing him with tears of compassion beside his bed wasn't helping him feel any better. She had that thing about her – when she was gone, he missed her: to insult people with him, to laugh at his crude jokes. When she was there, she'd quickly become a nuisance. One thing was for sure – his private life wouldn't gain anything from the outcome of this game. Snogging, adoration and more was the reward given to winners. Losing gained you nothing but sympathy.

'I'll have them pay, I swear,' Pansy promised through overdone tears, gritting her teeth. 'They won't see a house point anytime soon. Are you feeling better now?'

'Yeah,' Malfoy muttered. 'Not for long, though.'

He wished he could stay alone in the hospital wing forever. Then he wouldn't have to reap the various consequences of his failure.

Pansy sighed and patted him on the hand.

'You'll pull through this. I believe in you,' she assured the injured boy, but with a lot less conviction than the previous day. 'Well,' she glanced nervously at the door, 'I suppose you'd want to be left alone, rest…'

'Everything alright with the other prefects?' asked Draco, hoping to postpone her departure, feeling unwanted. Pansy clearly didn't want to stay.

'Unfortunately, yes. They're all ecstatic 'cause we lost. Um, I'd better go now… It's late, and I might get in trouble…'

'Yeah. Sure. See you tomorrow.'

'See you tomorrow, Draco.'

"No "hot stuff" for you today, Draco," the boy thought morbidly to himself, curled up on the bed in the darkness and suddenly felt unbearably lonely. He was just starting to whimper with misery when a movement behind him in the dark of the hospital wing made him jump. He saw, to his most unpleasant surprise, Wera Lynson leaning against the door frame.

He cursed under his breath and prepared to fight back to the death.

'What's the matter, Lynson?' he snarled. 'Come to remind me how I can't take a hit?'

'On the contrary,' Wera said with a small crooked smile. 'You took plenty of hits today, as far as I could see. I'm not here to triumph over your loss, though. No offense – but I did warn you that you would lose.'

Malfoy sneered joylessly, but had the terrible feeling he wasn't in the mental state to bring an enemy down.

'Let me guess – you had faith in my complete inability to win a Quidditch game, right, Lynson?' he said bitterly. Wera smiled sadly again.

'I wouldn't say that's the case. Perhaps you just didn't have the proper motivation. But I really was only checking if you were okay.'

'I'm splendid,' Draco growled. 'You can give that to Potter and company, along with loads of kisses from me. You can also tell them to kiss my – '

Wera wasn't listening. She sat at the corner of Draco's bed. Draco let out a sound of protest.

'I didn't intend to come here,' she spoke gloomily. 'I just couldn't help it. I didn't have a choice, you know? I couldn't just watch them beat you up and remain indifferent. I hate myself for it.'

'I have no idea what you're talking about, mudblood, but get the bloody hell away from my bed and leave me alone, 'cause I'm really not in the mood to deal with you right now.'

Wera stood up, but refused to leave the room. Malfoy groaned.

'You're right,' the girl began distractedly, 'you'd probably prefer Pansy's company. She left very quickly, though; I imagine that didn't feel very nice – '

'I don't need _anybody_'s company, _Lynson_, not yours, and not Parkinson's!' Draco snapped. 'I'm fine on my own. And you can all go to hell.'

Wera raised an eyebrow.

'You can hardly blame her, you know,' she began with an even voice. 'Pansy Parkinson. It shouldn't come as a surprise. She's disappointed in you. She expects you to be a winner. She wants you to be the big badass bastard you claim to be every single day. She wants a strong, powerful Slytherin, an Alpha dog. And you've let her down. You can't expect her to be by your side when you're losing.'

Malfoy searched for a shade of irony in the girl's voice, but found nothing but sympathy – sympathy that was not intended for him.

'But really, I feel sorry for her,' Wera continued calmly. 'Even though she bullies me as much as anyone. I mean, you're here, angry with her for not giving you what you need when you need it the most, although you reject everything else she gives you every other time… but you don't really stop to think what _you're_ giving her… I mean,' the girl shrugged, 'you've given more to Umbridge than to your own girlfriend. And Pansy just keeps trailing after you, 'cause she's too thick to realize you're not the best thing out there. You should, in fact, be grateful and lucky that you have her.'

Wera's advice left Malfoy speechless and enraged. It didn't happen every day that a Gryffindor student was criticizing his approach in his private life. This was worse than a beating.

'Grateful?!' he uttered in furious disbelief. 'Lucky? Do I look lucky enough to be dead right now, 'cause I'm thinking if I was, she'd be more likely to be here, the slut?'

'You're awful, honestly!' Wera exclaimed in disgust. 'Not just to those you hate, but to those you care for as well. You'd better appreciate what you have now, and be glad you have a girl you at least _like_, because one day you might not have a choice at all…'

'Who are you to tell me how to live my life, Lynson?' Malfoy hissed in her face, feeling offended and humiliated. 'And who are you to tell me what I have and how to value it?'

'Nobody,' Wera agreed peacefully, 'but I know the other Slytherins can say a few words about it.'

Malfoy stared at her in contempt, dumbstruck.

'Well, let's face the facts,' the Gryffindor proceeded, uninterrupted. 'Pansy's very attractive, no matter what the Gryffindors may say about her facial expression. She's elegant, dresses pretty, she has hair the color of gold and lots of real gold in her vault… She's pureblooded, rich, she may not be very smart or deep, but she's mean enough to make her way in life – and that practically makes her the Slytherin dream, doesn't it? And you're treating her like she is Moaning Myrtle.'

"Although," Wera added mentally with bitter satisfaction, "a year from now you'll be treating Myrtle far better than any of the girls you've encountered so far and you'll feel like an idiot for having been a total prick to anyone who's any good."

Malfoy was thinking entirely different things. He frowned, progressively angrier by the minute. Slytherin dream… yeah, right, he thought bitterly. He personally found Pansy boring and annoying. Yet he couldn't help but notice how many of the older and better built than him Slytherins enjoyed her company more than they ought to, and she didn't hide her satisfaction when they were showing an interest in her.

Sometimes, despite being completely obsessed with Draco, she showed way too much interest in them – the winners…

'How do you know she doesn't deserve such treatment?' Malfoy spat out before he could think it through.

Wera was startled – most of all, by the tone of his voice. He didn't sound vile this time – if anything, he sounded betrayed and hurt. The boy turned away from her. Wera sighed. She still wasn't cruel enough to kick the enemy when he was down.

'I don't,' she confessed. 'Your life isn't any of my business. It's just that I… never mind. You can bully me for these remarks tomorrow. Look, you _will_ lose to Hufflepuff as well,' the girl turned to him, struggling with her own compassion. 'But don't take it too hard. No one can win all the time, you know… well, except for Potter, I suppose. But what matters is that you mustn't let yourself lose everything you have.'

She turned around and left Malfoy with his increasingly confusing thoughts, staring unseeingly at the unfriendly darkened ceiling.

XXX

Some time had passed since the day of the Gryffindor – Slytherin match. Enough time for Draco to forget about it and get over it.

But he hadn't forgotten the oddly logical advice, even if it was given to him by a filthy Gryffindor he despised. Perhaps that was why he'd remembered it in the first place. The Lynson girl was clearly insane and deserved his hatred to the fullest as much as ever – but that didn't stop him from taking advantage of her words and putting them to practice. Since the night after the game, he'd strengthened his bond with Pansy and become more tolerant of her flaws. Perhaps he couldn't win a game of Quidditch, but he could still win himself the affection of a girl once again. He didn't see much in her, but his ego needed Pansy to think he was the best one out there after all.

'The Hufflepuffs don't stand a chance against you, hot stuff,' Pansy was saying to Draco the evening prior to the Hufflepuff – Slytherin match. 'We can still win the Cup. You'll knock 'em dead, like you do every year. Do you want to go torture first-years to celebrate your upcoming victory?' she suggested.

'I have a better idea,' Draco replied. 'Why don't we sneak up somewhere instead, just the two of us, and you can tell me all about that lovely new skirt of yours you're wearing – which looks absolutely smashing on you, if I may add…'

He didn't even have to try very hard. Pansy never received any real compliments from him and now that she'd finally been graced with one, she'd be more than willing to give him a fifteen-year-old girl's most precious possession.

'Ooh!' she exclaimed, blushing. 'You're really eager to break a lot of rules, aren't you, prefect Malfoy?'

The moment she had her hand on his tie, Draco knew he'd already won the game he and Pansy had been playing all along.

XXX

The game with Hufflepuff, however, he lost.

He was infinitely mad at himself. He'd let the snitch slip away because the memory of what had happened between him and Pansy the night before the game was playing out too vividly before his eyes, and it had distracted him. Perhaps it had taken all the motivation out of him. The experience had been strange, altogether better and worse than he'd imagined it would be. While it lasted, it felt like the best thing in the world; when it was over, he had the feeling he'd made a huge mistake. This led to Draco feeling detached from the rest of the world. He couldn't figure out what he wanted, and what had felt wrong about the previous night. How could it have been wrong? He still felt Pansy's perfect nails sinking deep into his skin. For the average Slytherin, that was equal to heaven.

On top of it all, his team had beaten him up good for being the cause of their loss to Hufflepuff – an embarrassment they wouldn't let Draco forget anytime soon. He was lying sore in the hospital wing again, feeling like a loser. Pansy hadn't even shown up.

'Serves you right, you know,' Wera was saying to him with a strict look on her face. 'The loss, the beating, everything. It takes a truly rotten bastard to upset a bad girl like Pansy, and boy, has she been upset over you these days! You don't take her out on Valentine's Day, you don't talk to her like you should, you constantly ignore her… am I missing anything?' she scolded him, arms crossed.

Draco wasn't saying anything. He wanted to say a lot of things, in fact. How he'd stood up and left Pansy after the memorable night like he wasn't even conscious of his actions. How he was feeling distant, and cheated, and somewhat stained; how trouble rained upon him and how he felt something was missing, something the absence of which he hadn't noticed up until last night. Instead, of course, he tried to bully Wera away:

'No one asked your opinion – '

'– you filthy little mudblood,' Wera finished his sentence almost cheerfully. 'Honestly, get a grip, man. If you don't want her enough, leave her, and don't torment the poor girl…'

'…who's probably out there now snogging a seventeen-year-old Slytherin,' Draco snarled and his face acquired a rather amusing pout.

'Well, that's what I'd do too if my boyfriend was like that!' Wera raised her voice at Malfoy. 'And I'd send you pictures, too!'

'Why do you keep defending her when she hates you?' Malfoy shouted back. 'Are you in love with her or something?'

'If only that was the case… I'm just telling you to figure out the important things in life before you have to learn the hard way…'

'And what's it to you? You're ruining my life with your useless unwanted advice, okay? Maybe that's your plan!'

'I was mistaken, Malfoy, clearly you've been kind to me all this time, at least compared to the way you treat your loved ones…'

'I _know_ what I want!' Draco lied vigorously. 'You have some nerve pestering me and putting me down while I'm not in the position to send you to Umbridge for another free tattoo!'

'Oh, and you might wanna let go of Umbridge's skirt, too,' Wera continued impassively. 'She's doomed to fail, and it looks like you're doomed to chase after women in pink dresses.'

'There, again, speaking like a know-it-all! Why don't you go chat with your fellow mudblood Granger and leave me the bloody hell alone?'

Wera groaned and decided to listen to him, lest he called the school nurse to complain. She couldn't tell him the truth about her visits – how, despite the current Draco being a complete bastard to her throughout the past few months, she still had enough feelings for the future Malfoy, buried feelings that occasionally came back from the grave in cases when he was being beaten or in danger. A part of her demanded that she protected and watched over him, and it was up to that part to make sure he grew up to be a man worth, if not loving, then at least not killing.

Tears flooded Wera's eyes as she headed to the door.

'You have no idea how difficult it is,' she swallowed them miserably, her voice laden with sadness.

Malfoy assumed he had misheard something.

'What's difficult,' he fired back automatically, 'finding the door knob?'

But Wera was already crying uncontrollably. Perhaps her fourteen-year-old body was suffocating her mind with hormones and such. Draco was shocked and infuriated. He was beginning to feel annoyingly guilty and for the first time he was certain he'd said nothing that hurtful. He wasn't going to apologize, even if his existence depended on it. But something about the sincerity of the girl's sobs stopped him from laughing out mockingly at her misery.

'Y-you don't know,' Wera was moaning to herself rather than to Draco, 'you've no idea how much it hurts… Not the bullying, not Umbridge's punishments... but not knowing who you are, or what you need to be, or whose expectations to live up to… Feeling you might have chosen the wrong person all along… and you don't know them, or anyone, or anything… And you're so afraid of tomorrow… for it brings nothing but hell… and everything is so confusing…'

This description, albeit regarding an entirely different situation, resonated with Malfoy's recent feelings perfectly. For a fraction of a second, he saw Lynson as someone completely different. The guilt rising in him was about to eat him alive.

'…and… you know… you suddenly realize you've no real friends to turn to; you're all alone,' the wailing continued from Wera's side of the monologue. 'And you can't turn to the only people who make any sense because they hate you… and… and… you find the only person on your side is Potter! How humiliating is that? Potter, loser number one in Hogwarts, on your team! Do you know how bad it feels? Every time I'm in trouble and his stupid gang is the only ones there for me, it makes me want to kill myself…'

Malfoy didn't know what to say. A Gryffindor girl badmouthing Potter – that was more than uncommon. He refused to believe what he was hearing. His eyes widened in astonishment.

'Potter?' he muttered in avid confusion. The words just slipped.

It was then that he looked at Wera, and she looked at him.

In her view clouded by her desperation, he appeared so harmless and innocent to her, a mere fifteen-year-old boy looking puzzled and not evil for a change. Before she herself saw it coming, she flung herself at him and continued weeping on his injured shoulder. Malfoy felt he was going insane.

'P-p-potter!' Wera whimpered restlessly, shedding tears onto the dumbstruck boy, face buried desperately in his blond hair. 'H-he r-really s-sucks!'

'Yeah,' Malfoy uttered awkwardly, 'it brings me to tears myself. Now if you could just… move away…'

'And the worst part is I'll never find true love!'

'Not with your looks, Lynson, sorry. But you can always try your luck with Potter.'

'No, thanks…'

'It was a heartless joke. No one deserves someone as bad as Potter, really.'

'No, really… thank you.'

Malfoy was still struggling to slip out of the embrace of the crazy girl, but he was injured too badly to succeed. This last comment, however, finished him off.

'Excuse me?!'

'Thank you for saying what you really think. Everyone keeps telling me it'll be fine… but only you have the guts to tell me the truth when everything falls to pieces. You never sugarcoat anything. I've always loved that about you.'

Malfoy was now feeling terrified of himself. His muscles were relaxing against his will. They felt unwilling to try to free him from the odd depressing embrace of a girl he was supposed to loathe.

Her words were the nicest thing he'd been told all year.

'I think you need to be in the hospital wing more than I do,' the boy muttered after an awkward pause. 'Go ask Snape for an anti-stress potion, 'cause it seems you've really lost it. I'll be making fun of you a lot for what happened just now. And if you don't go now, I'll take a hundred points from your house for attempting to suffocate a prefect to death.'

'Yes… yes, of course,' Wera slowly snapped out of her gloom, coming to terms with the stupidity of her outburst. 'I'll be going, um… sorry… Gotta go prepare to be bullied tomorrow... I got carried away… bollocks… never mind… Get well soon… I mean, I hope you die slowly and painfully…'

As she stumbled out of the hospital wing, Draco felt, for the first time in ages, less alone than usual. His mind was working fast. His heart was racing and screaming things too loud for him to understand. Something of a victory, it seemed. Still, as winning and losing went, that didn't stop Draco from feeling like he'd been acting like loser number one in Hogwarts history.


	6. Chapter 6: Bending The Rules

**Chapter six**

**Bending The Rules**

So that was it, then! It explained everything, although the very thought of it was preposterous. Clearly Wera Lynson had a crush on him! Malfoy pondered over the realization, then tried to think the same thought again without an exclamation mark. Why the girl was feeling this way, he did not know, but the evidence was incontrovertible. There was no other explanation for her temporary insanity in the hospital wing… Temporary? She'd come to see if he was okay twice! She'd come to see if he was okay twice, Malfoy thought again more coolly. All of this could only mean one thing. Clearly, he'd been underestimating his appeal.

It was all falling into place now. The "_This one's for Malfoy_" scars… Her attempts to warn him about the possibility of losing the games… her excessive interest in his private life… of course! And he'd been a jerk to her all along!

"And that's what you'll keep being to her, Malfoy," a stern voice said in his head. "You don't want anyone thinking that you like her back. Don't flatter yourself too much about earning the affection of a mudblood. Play cool and use this new knowledge to your advantage."

The first thing to do was to become convinced in the facts before he made a fool of himself. Find more proof; _test_ the girl's feelings. Then, Draco was thinking vigorously, once he was absolutely sure of them, he'd definitely be able to –

'Is everything okay with you, hot stuff?' Pansy's voice echoed through the blur of thoughts rushing through his mind, and made him feel mentally ambushed. 'It's like you're not hearing a word of what I'm saying. Is something troubling you?'

Draco hesitated for a moment before he could answer the same question to himself.

'Hmm,' he began rather cautiously, 'Pansy?'

'Yes? You can tell me anything.'

'Well, it's just that lately I've been hearing rumors that some of the other Slytherin boys fancy you.'

Pansy glanced at him, puzzled by the question.

'Have you?' she uttered distractedly. 'Well, no matter what they say, and no matter who might fancy me, I'm yours and yours alone, Draco, you know that.'

'No… yes… that was my point precisely. I mean, if anyone else happens to fancy either of us, we can't help it, right? It's not like we're responsible for that.'

'I suppose not,' Pansy agreed uncertainly. 'Why is it you're asking?' she added innocently, but Draco could hear the threat lurking in her voice. He decided to switch tactics.

'I was just wondering,' he replied slowly, 'what you think the proper reaction is in such a situation. Say that, a boy fancies you, for instance…'

'Hmm?'

'…and, since we're together and all, I suppose you ought to tell him to…'

'Well, it depends,' Pansy estimated evenly, although her voice sounded like she was hiding something herself. The sound of concealed betrayal didn't escape Draco's ears. He knew all about acting, and Pansy had never been a good actress. 'If someone clearly likes me, then I would tell him to…'

'…bugger off?' Draco suggested.

'Yes, that, of course, but, well, if he… presents… the information… in a nice, civilized way… I suppose I'll have to politely turn him down, and, if he's particularly broken about my refusal, to… thank him anyway… to express my… gratitude…'

'Gratitude? You're a Slytherin!' Draco exclaimed in irritation. 'He caught his blood pounding madly in his veins.

'Yes, I am… which is why I'll laugh afterwards, see, to indicate that I was being ironic,' Pansy laughed feebly, but all of this was clearly a lie.

Draco wished he could bash his head against a wall. He gritted his teeth, but managed to restore his composed expression just when he felt most furious. A part of his brain told him it was pointless to get upset. Now, there was only point in vengeance.

'I understand,' he said blankly to Pansy. She was casting strange, anxious glances at him. He ignored them. 'No, I really do understand. That'd be meaner than actually telling the poor guy the truth _from the_ _start_, right?'

'Yes! Exactly!' Pansy exclaimed, relieved.

'Because you can't just _tell_ the guy to bugger off – or go run off to other guys just like that… First you have to make him _believe_ that he has a chance, right? That you actually _care_ for him, _right_?'

'Precisely what I wanted to say!'

'Good one, Pansy,' Draco nodded sarcastically. 'Now that's truly Slytherin.'

Truly Slytherin, he thought to himself in anger, trying to think of a non-defeatist approach to the problem with Pansy's infidelity. Well, he could be truly Slytherin too.

XXX

The realization that Pansy was cheating on him – he'd seen the lie staring straight at him from her guilty eyes – left him frustrated, hurt and filled with spite. Sure, neither of them was satisfied with the way they were being treated by the other, and surely he'd made some mistakes, but he would never do what she'd done… At least not until now. But he'd show her this time. He wasn't one to mess with. He'd show her she wasn't the only girl in school interested in him. And if that Lynson girl wasn't really into him, he'd make it happen, if it was the last thing he'd do. His blind lust for revenge made him forget that he hated Wera in the first place. For now, Pansy was a more important target.

The day after, Wera was rushing on her way to Transfiguration when she heard a familiar annoying voice calling her name.'

'Lynson! Hey, Lynson!' Malfoy shouted with almost cheerful malice. 'Wera groaned and turned angrily at him.

'What now?'

'A gift for your favorite Potter!' Draco sniggered and flung a small parchment-wrapped package her way. Wera caught it reluctantly and unfolded it with morbid curiosity.

It turned out to contain a dead slug, heading slowly on its way to decay.

'Wonderful,' she frowned at the repelling gift.

'The inscription's for you,' Malfoy smirked and nodded impatiently towards the wrapping.

Wera shook her head, disgusted by the way Malfoy was so eager to see her get hurt by yet another practical joke of his. She read what was written on the piece of parchment to the extent the slug stains allowed her to. It said:

_"If you're brave enough to see something different, be atop the Astronomy Tower tonight at midnight."_

The girl eyed Malfoy suspiciously.

'Really?' she raised an eyebrow, frowning. 'For another prank? No, thanks! Is that how you get people to walk into your traps these days?'

'No, mudblood,' Malfoy grinned viciously. 'Turn the parchment over.'

Wera hesitated, but still ventured to read the fewer words written on the other side of the parchment. When she read them, things became a bit clearer.

_"Be there or I'll take 150 points from your house for being a coward."_

'Ah,' the girl replied grimly. '_That's_ how you get people to walk into your traps.'

'One way or another,' Draco said arrogantly. 'Take your time to decide, mudblood, and choose wisely. Otherwise you won't dare to return to your common room ever again.'

He sniggered evilly, waved at her with excessive sarcasm, and swaggered confidently out of her sight.

XXX

Wera had no choice but to do what Malfoy had blackmailed her to do unless she wanted all of Gryffindor house to hate her for the rest of her life. To sneak atop the Astronomy Tower she had to do the impossible in order not to get caught by one of Umbridge's tools. Now that she was finally there, she waited and trembled in the chilly midnight air, dreading the moment when someone else would show up at the meeting place as well. Perhaps Malfoy would send Crabbe and Goyle over to get her back for the disrespectful way she'd talked to Draco the two times he was in the hospital wing. In that case, she'd probably still be fishing for her own teeth in the Black Lake a week after the beating.

She was surprised, and slightly relieved to see Malfoy eventually appear at the top of the tower alone. Nevertheless, she remained alert.

'No need to flinch, Lynson,' he said coldly to Wera when he approached her on the rooftop. 'You won't get a prank this time, I assure you.'

But Wera couldn't take it easy. She noticed in the darkness that Malfoy was hiding something long and wooden, perhaps a club, behind his back. That didn't look too harmless to her.

'What was it you wanted me to see?' Wera urged Malfoy to cut to the chase. 'Come on, I have a date with Umbridge in her office on my way back to the dormitory.'

'Tonight, you'll see who can't take a hit,' Draco replied in a promising voice. To Wera, it didn't sound like it promised anything good. 'I'll make sure of that.'

Wera instantly clenched her fists, prepared to defend herself.

'What,' she sneered, hoping to discourage Malfoy from a potential attack, 'you're going to beat me to death with that… broomstick?' she stared astonished at the Nimbus 2001 the boy was holding. 'Broomstick? Why are you carrying a broomstick?'

She was so relieved and curious she forgot to be alert. Draco approached Wera with his evilest smirk yet. She stepped back, trying to increase the distance between them, although Malfoy was clearly aiming the opposite. The girl's retreat continued until she was standing at the Astronomy Tower's very edge.

'Guess,' Draco hissed ominously and pushed the girl mercilessly off the roof.

Wera lost her balance before she could scream, before she could think in disbelief that she was falling to her death, when a hand attached to a person she hated caught her lightly a moment later and landed her heavily on a Nimbus 2001 in flight. This time Wera shrieked, feeling her own instability to the fullest, and, to prevent herself from getting splattered on the ground, reached for the only thing that could help her remain on that broom – and that was Malfoy's waist. Indeed, it was a vile, cunning plan – she couldn't stay alive right now unless she held onto Draco, who was seated in front of her on the broomstick, acting infuriatingly confident and shooting the Nimbus through the midnight sky.

Wera wasn't very good at flying and she'd be the first to admit it.

'What are you doing?' she yelped through the deafening sound of wind brushing harshly past her, banging on her eardrums. 'Why are we flying?'

'It's forbidden to sneak around on Hogwarts territory when we should be in bed,' Malfoy's voice rang cheerfully close ahead. 'So I figured we'd fly around on Hogwarts territory instead – there's no rule against that.'

Wera was terrified to the bone.

'But why are you doing this to me?' she whimpered in fear as the landscape beneath her became a dizzying blur. 'Let me go!'

'I'd strongly advise against it, mudblood.'

Malfoy was snickering in front of her, directing the broom wherever he wished with the slightest movements of his body. Right now, he had no worries whatsoever. Wera only had one: that her brain would fly out through her nose and ears at any given moment.

'What's wrong with you?!' she screamed as they darted chaotically through the air. 'What is this all about?'

'I want you to admit that I am a good flyer, no matter what the whole school says,' Malfoy announced. 'I wanted to show you what I can really do.'

'WHAT? Are you mental? Take us down this instant!'

'So be it,' Malfoy shrugged, to the extent he could do that on a broom, and sped up the Nimbus unexpectedly. The landscape rose towards them in a heart-stopping instant.

'No! No! Don't do this, we'll crash!' Wera pleaded frantically as the broom ploughed through the air, heading for their death. 'Go back!'

After a turn so sudden it nearly gave Wera a heart attack, the broom was gaining height once again. Wera could see the painful sight of stars spinning before her eyes.

'What do you say now?' Draco asked in the middle of this enjoyable torment – enjoyable for him, torment for Wera.

'You'll get us killed!' she squealed in panic.

'Really? You don't think I'm good enough to handle this? Very well, then!' Draco said and the next thing he did was a series of mid-air flips, whirls, and various Quidditch maneuvers, which gave Wera the single utmost desire to vomit and die. The scream froze in her throat as she felt the broom loop through the darkness with her and Malfoy on it, or, most of the time now, beneath it. For the past fifteen minutes they'd been flying and spinning upside down. To Wera, the world became a horrid place. She squeezed Malfoy and clung to his back as tightly as she could against her own will. At some point, when she felt she was about to throw up into her own brain, she gave it u and squealed for mercy:

'Okay! Okay! You're a talented flyer! You're a great Quidditch player! Best I've ever seen! Please, slow it down, please!'

Malfoy was still laughing when, for the first time since the beginning of the flight, he turned to face the girl, while they were still riding upside down, and said triumphantly:

'Well? Was it so hard to tell the truth? See who's boss now, huh, mud –'

But Wera's eyes widened in horror upon seeing something he didn't while he was busy looking at her.

'Tree! Tree! Tree! Turn around! Whomping Willow! Whomping Willow ahead!'

Malfoy panicked, turned the broom around rapidly to avoid the crash by an inch, but the turn was so abrupt that he lost control of the broomstick. It plummeted down through the suddenly really thin air. Wera and Draco started shrieking simultaneously. The broom spun around its handle a few times, increased its speed on its way down, making its riders shut their eyes in helpless terror, and, with a flawless dreadful acceleration, shot itself with the precision of an arrow straight through the still surface of the Black Lake.

Somewhere deep inside it, the giant squid protested.

Draco and Wera's heads surfaced above the dark, chilly waters a few moments later. Nimbus 2001 was floating peacefully beside him, looking far less damaged than its former riders. If anything, it looked proud of itself.

Wera stared at Draco, freezing and furious under the moonlight.

'You IDIOT! You complete moron!' she bellowed. 'What were you thinking? If you were THAT good a flyer, you'd see that huge sodding tree in front of you! You could've killed us both! I hate you! Always have, always will! Good flyer, my – '

'At least I got you to say it, didn't I?' Malfoy smirked contentedly at her. He'd provoked a reaction in her, if a negative one – and that meant the enemy was clearly impressed. 'You're lucky I'm a good swimmer as well. Let's get to the shore where – '

'Where I'll kill you, that's where!' Wera was drawing breaths solely from her endless well of rage. 'You're the stupidest, most thoughtless, most obstinate… And so what if we get to the shore before we get killed by the giant squid? Do you know any magic that'll dry our clothes, genius?'

'No,' Malfoy replied carelessly, while he was humming something to himself happily, swimming towards the shore. 'But I've brought along something that'll warm us up.'

XXX

'There!' he exclaimed victoriously later in one of the empty classrooms in the castle. 'Firewhiskey!'

Wera pointed at the steaming bottle and laughed at Malfoy in disbelief.

'Firewhiskey? Come on! Aren't you a little young for that? What if poor little prefect Malfoy can't hold his liquor?' she jeered.

'Nonsense,' Draco shook his head confidently, bringing the whiskey bottle to his lips. 'I'm older and far more experienced than you in every way.'

Wera snorted mockingly.

'Really? You're too funny. I really want to see you drink one quarter of this cute little bottle and remain sober.'

'You'll see,' Draco assured her, and to prove he was used to this, he took a strong sip of the whiskey, after which he immediately stifled a cough. 'In Slytherin, we have parties slightly different from the Gryffindor ones.'

'You don't say,' Wera sneered, snatching the bottle from Draco's hand and taking a big gulp out of it as well. 'You don't intimidate me, you amateur. I've survived after thirteen shots of tequila. You don't know if my life's been a Gryffindor life at all. I'll watch you dribble on this while I drink twice as much as you and I'll still be only slightly tipsy when you've passed out under this very desk – '

'Deal,' Malfoy agreed haughtily. 'Let's see who can't take a hit, woman.'

XXX

Twenty-five minutes later there were two and a half empty whiskey bottles lying before them, and the world was a much more fun place to be in.

'I… I underestimated… the frail age of my current body,' Wera was muttering chaotically to herself while Malfoy was thoughtfully plotting to punch his own reflection in the classroom window. 'It wasn't the logical thing to do…'

'Shut up, for Mer-merlin's sake!' Draco complained without particular grace or eloquence. 'Everything you say sounds like… like a textbook. You're too smart. Or maybe I'm too stupid. Anyway, let's do something fun!' he exclaimed with the average pronunciation speed of any intoxicated teenager.

It wasn't like they hadn't done anything "fun" so far. Usually, wizards knew well enough to put their wands away while drinking, but not them. The entire classroom was a vision of chaos. The bin was floating in mid-air above the chalk-stained teacher's desk, while various types of trash were flying out of it in slow motion in the gravity-free zone of an Aresto Momentum spell. One desk was broken; another had been transfigured into a poor imitation of a couch which Wera was now lying on, and Draco was sprawled over her legs like a puma on too much catnip. He was now staring idly at the ceiling, probably thinking the chandelier was made of stars.

'Why did you make me climb atop the Astronomy Tower tonight?' Wera said dizzily. 'To freak me out with your impressive broomstick?'

Draco started sniggering like an idiot, probably making drunken mental references to jokes he clearly wasn't old enough for. Wera shook her head in disapproval and felt she would lose it anytime now.

'No, actually I had to see you alone,' Draco replied through the alcoholic blur in his mind, which drove him to say, childishly and gloomily, without thinking: 'Pansy is cheating on me.'

Wera patted him compassionately on what she thought was his head but turned out to be a part of the couch.

'Well, that sucks,' she estimated. 'But you had it coming. Drink some more, you'll feel better,' she shoved the third whiskey bottle in his face. The boy grinned stupidly at her.

'Bottoms up!' he announced happily, then attempted in vain to think once again. 'Hey, do you think… that I'll be able to pour the drink in my mouth with magic?'

'Noooo,' Wera panicked, getting drunker by the minute inhaling the Firewhiskey fumes. 'Don't do that… the whiskey… it's too _vall-eww-able_… It's too risky… The… whiskey… is… risky!' she proudly discovered a rhyme in her speech. 'I mean, don't wave your wand around for everything!'

Draco laughed hysterically again. Wera did too, although she wasn't sure why.

'What are we doing here?' the intoxicated prefect asked drunkenly from the girl's lap. 'Why are we even talking to each other? I mean, you're a Gryffindor, and a mudblood…'

'And you h-hate me,' Wera reminded him while stifling a hiccup. 'So why are we here breaking the rules drinking together?'

'Bending the rules,' Malfoy corrected her, winking and smiling dreamily in her direction. 'And I don't hate you, you know. Hate is… a very strong potion.'

'You mean emotion.'

'Shut up, mudblood! Emotion. I hate… Potter, for example. And Greasley. And Wanger. But not you. Ouch! I'm bleeding!'

Wera gave an impassive and unfocused look at his finger, on which there was a wound the size of a paper-cut. She snorted.

'You broke the bottle,' she estimated wisely. 'Serves you right. Ow, don't wave it at me!'

'There,' Draco said triumphantly, smearing a few pathetic drops of blood over Wera's hand. 'Now you can count as a pureblood.'

'You make me sick,' the girl replied, giggling for no reason. 'So, you were saying you don't really hate me?'

Malfoy stared at her like he was about to cry, the way every drunk person looked upon someone should they ask a question like "Do you respect me?"

'Of course I don't hate you!' he exclaimed, clearly emotional, although "emotional" was not a word he could currently pronounce'. 'For a Gryffindor you actually seem… pretty cool.'

'Well, that's just my luck… I wish I were in Slytherin. I'd ask the Hat to re-sort me, but I know it won't listen.'

'Really?' Draco asked tensely. He had a truly soap opera expression. Wera saw he was being serious.

'Yeah,' she nodded. 'I'd love to be in Slytherin.'

'If it means that much to you,' the boy uttered, probably on the verge of tears, and reached for his drinking mate's tie. He clumsily started trying to untie it. Wera jumped, startled.

'What are you doing?' she shrieked.

'Shut up and trust me.'

It took him a lot of time to remove the Gryffindor tie from neck, but when he succeeded, he in turn took off his own tie and – with considerable effort – placed it over the girl's head like a crown. It wouldn't go further down her head.

'Perhaps… now that I'm officially a pureblood Slytherin, we can pretend we're allowed not to be enemies today,' Wera suggested with a rather foolish smile.

Draco stared at her in utter amazement.

'Wow,' he suddenly gasped in awe. 'You look so beautiful!'

Wera started laughing.

'What, did the tie colors change everything for you? Or does it say on my shirt "_Drink until I'm a Slytherin_"?'

'You have a Slytherin sense of humor,' Draco said sincerely. 'I really like you, Lynson.' The alcohol was driving him to speak his mind. 'I've been thinking about it for a long time. You're very pleasant and very witty and you don't hate me when I bully you, and you went to see me at the hospital wing twice and you're very attractive when you're not wearing Gryffindor clothes.'

'Wow… thanks,' Wera said, flabbergasted. 'You're not so bad yourself when you're not sober… and when your hair is messy like that.'

'You like my hair messy? Nobody's ever said that in my whole life!' Malfoy looked conspiratorially around and added: 'Would it be weird if I addressed you by your first name?'

Wera thought over the possibility.

'Yep,' she finally decided. 'We're not ready to take this step in our relationship yet.'

Malfoy looked broken and discouraged. He decided to change the subject.

'What does your name mean, anyway? Does it stand for "werewolf" or something?'

'Yeah. Not a very feminine name.'

'Mine means "dragon."

'Everyone knows that, you idiot,' Wera said meekly. Draco just smiled idiotically to confirm he deserved the offensive title.

'It's kind of sad, isn't it?' the boy spoke after a pause spent trying to find where he'd left off again. 'We're both named after monsters.'

Wera was going softer by the minute.

'I don't think you're a monster.'

Malfoy was falling in love rapidly with the help of the Firewhiskey. Unexpectedly, he flung himself forth into an awkward hug and wrapped his arms around the waist of the astonished Wera.

'Wera Lynson,' he spoke desperately somewhere in the vicinity of her diaphragm, 'you're too cool. This is the best night of my life and I don't want it to end.'

The sight of Malfoy about to cry again, trying hopelessly to curl up in her lap, scared to let go of her, left Wera increasingly soft-hearted and with an unwanted amount of butterflies in her stomach. She petted his hair nervously.

'I don't want it to end either,' she cautiously changed the subject, 'but we've run out of Firewhiskey.'

Malfoy's expression transformed into one of panic.

'Oh no! But we have to get some more, then!' he yelped.

'Where from? We can't sneak out of the castle, remember?'

Draco sprang up with a speed impressive for an inebriated teenager.

'The Potion Master's office!' he shouted victoriously and rushed towards the classroom door. Wera followed him hurriedly, but uncertainly.

'What?' she voiced out her suspicion. 'Do you think there'll be more alcohol there? I doubt it…'

'Yeah, but there'll be loads of toxic potions we can get wasted on! Come on!'

The journey to Snape's office was a long, difficult and wobbly one. When they were finally standing in front of the door, Wera was beginning to think what Malfoy had talked her into wasn't such a clever idea.

He, on the other hand, couldn't stop snickering.

'Come on, how hard could it be?' he urged. 'Potter's stolen from Snape! If he can do it…'

'Yeah, but Snape is probably in his office right now! And Potter was sober at the time, unlike us!' Wera panicked. Malfoy decided to relieve the tension.

'You're very pretty when you're afraid,' he uttered tenderly to Wera's face. Wera scoffed at him in disapproval.

'That was a truly horrifying compliment, Malfoy.'

'Sorry… I just can't help thinking how good we can have it together. Maybe not now, but when we graduate…'

'…and when your parents die,' Wera groaned sarcastically.

'…and when my parents die,' Draco agreed automatically. 'It'll be so great… We'll rule the world and everything… Just give me a chance… I'll bully everyone who bullies you, I promise!'

Wera blushed; then, a part of her brain still functioning reminded her to come to her senses.

'That's really sweet, Draco… Malfoy, I mean… But… I can't… this is really complicated… You'll be a Death Eater next year, for goodness' sake!'

Draco looked straight into her eyes and his eyes swelled with tears of joy.

'Oh, Merlin!' he whispered lovingly. 'You really _do_ believe in me!'

In the next few seconds, Draco leaned forward towards the unsuspecting girl, who had nowhere to run as her back was facing a wall, closed his eyes dreamily and kissed her.

It was a truly magical moment. The entire hallway was spinning, and it wasn't just because of the Firewhiskey. Wera felt tons of pressure leave her shoulders as her entire being filled with emotions and sensations more bubbly than she could handle; she wrapped her arms around the boy's neck the way she was used to… and then, a part of her mind screamed.

Malfoy trembled as the perfect kiss was interrupted. Wera's lips tore away from his quicker than lightning.

'No!' she exclaimed, frightened and redder than she'd ever been this year. 'I can't do this! You – you have a girlfriend!'

Draco stared at her in confusion, struggling with his morals. Then, a second realization hit Wera hard.

'Bugger!' she shrieked, terminally horrified. 'I completely forgot! You're fifteen years old!'

Draco smiled a crooked smile at her.

'It's not that old, you know, if that's troubling you,' he attempted to comfort the girl, but the result was rather the opposite. Wera buried her face in her hands.

'I know! It's not old at all! Oh no, what have I done…'

'What's the problem?' Draco asked disappointedly.

'Everything's the problem, you really don't understand…'

'Neither do I,' a cold, deep voice barely containing a hint of anger flew to them from behind Draco. 'And I demand an explanation because I can't distinguish a single thought I can read in your inebriated brains.'

The thoughtless drunken screaming had brought Snape to the scene. It wasn't easy to describe what Draco and Wera thought when they saw him, but from Snape's perspective, the case was the following:

Two drunken students were barely standing before him making stupid faces and loud noises, begging for detention. The little sleep he was entitled had been ruined so he could witness the sight of one Wera Lynson, looking terrified, her hair flying in all directions, a Slytherin tie placed awkwardly on her head like a halo of shame, and one Draco Malfoy, a school prefect from Slytherin, giggling like an imbecile, shirt outside his trousers, hair a blond mess, in the middle of the sodding night.

Draco caught Snape's ferocious stare, waved cheerfully at him and shouted:

'Heeeey! Snape! Do you have any alcohol?'

Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. Wera nudged Draco in the ribs.

'Psst! Don't call him "Snape", he hates that. His name is Severus, and he's a professor!'

'Sorry, Professor Severus! Do you have any drinks?'

The professor let a tense, foreboding pause creep into the hallway.

'Detention,' he articulated slowly with his champion unpleasant voice. 'For both of you deprived of brain activity individuals. Every day after classes… no exceptions.'

Wera lowered her head in disappointment.

'Bugger,' she muttered. 'For how long?'

'For_ever_!' Snape growled. The butterflies in Wera's stomach froze to death at the sound of Snape's voice and expired. 'And don't even think of complaining about it! If this was Umbridge, you'd already be on the train!' he shouted furiously.

Apparently, all of this was still not enough to bring Malfoy back to sobriety.

'Do you think they'll be serving drinks on the train?' he asked innocently.


	7. Chapter 7: Trelawney's Advice

**Chapter seven**

**Trelawney's Advice**

The future for Wera and Draco was completely booked by Snape and filled with dead slugs. And that was not it. Wera soon understood why Argus Filch was so grumpy all the time as they had to do pretty much everything he did. They cleaned classrooms. They cleaned the hospital wing, the owlery, even the school's bathrooms (Wera resisted the temptation to tell Malfoy about his extensive future experiences in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom). Snape was merciless. When there was nothing left to clean, they had to write and copy humiliating sentences such as "_I must not be an idiot_," "_I must think before I drink_," and "_I must worship Professor Severus Snape as a god for not telling Headmistress Umbridge about our little party episode in the dungeons_." There wasn't much time left for Draco and Wera to talk to each other during the detentions, although Snape gave them a chance to do that by frequently leaving them two alone in determination with the explanation that his nerves couldn't bear taking care of too many morons at once.

Wera knew he was referring to Harry, who had problems with his Occlumency lessons with Snape at that time of the year, Umbridge, and possibly the members of the Order of the Phoenix. Wera still found reasons to admire Snape. Deep down, she suspected he knew more than he shared and was leaving her alone with Draco on purpose. Same old Snape, always bitter but still always secretly trying to help everyone…

However, Draco wasn't very talkative during the detentions. Although he sat on the same desk with Wera, he didn't utter a word to her and conscientiously copied his sentences. He wasn't even looking at her – at least not when she was watching. Occasionally, the girl would feel Draco's foot slightly touching hers, but every time she glanced at him, he acted like nothing had happened.

Draco was leading a fierce inner battle with himself. To say the least, he wasn't driven mad with guilt about Pansy. No, she didn't matter to him anymore. Draco knew that from the moment his lips touched Wera's that drunken night, he no longer belonged to Pansy Parkinson. She just didn't know it yet.

He wasn't worried about the future. What troubled Malfoy was whether to confess to Wera that he remembered everything from that night – especially the kiss – and that he'd do it again in a sober state too, if given the chance. But he wasn't entirely sure how the girl felt about that. Perhaps she thought it had been a mistake.

"This was a big mistake," Wera was thinking the same at the very moment Malfoy was, in the middle of their second week of detention. She'd glance at Draco every now and then just to see if he was looking at her and felt stupid for doing that. Besides, he seemed to be getting increasingly charming every time he did not return her stare. "Face it, Wera: that's your fourteen-year-old girl hormones talking. You wanted to see if he was any good for you. Well, he isn't, obviously, but clearly that doesn't matter to you. Get a grip, girl! You're falling in love with Draco Malfoy. _Again_."

The way to act was more than clear. Since, obviously, she couldn't live without Draco, one way or another, it was her duty to try to leave the past, go back to her present, and save her future with Draco. But first she had to find a way to reverse any changes she might have made to the future by influencing the past with her very presence in it. And she had influenced Malfoy a lot.

But, despite what the butterflies in her stomach told her, this was a bad thing. If love inspired Malfoy at age fifteen to become a better person, Wera knew, he probably wouldn't become a Death Eater at all and would therefore eventually be killed, either by the Dark Lord's wrath or while fighting alongside the resistance, the Order of the Phoenix. That was most likely to happen. Not to mention that if Draco was dead, he'd never get to become the owner of the Elder wand in the future, thus preventing Harry from ever getting his hands on a weapon that could defeat or even weaken the Dark Lord. This meant that Voldemort would win, and everyone that ever stood in his way – including Wera – would be dead. And with just one kiss, Wera had sealed the entire population of the wizarding world's fate as slaves to the New World Order imposed by Voldemort. If Snape knew that he would die in vain two years from now thanks to Wera, he'd arrange detention for her in hell.

A voice interrupted her grim thoughts and made her see, upon looking at her sheet, that instead of the expected sentences she'd been writing down "Voldemort" for the past five minutes.

'I made you _bad_, didn't I?' the voice said, and someone nudged her cheekily in the ribs.

'What?'

'I was just asking to copy your detention sheet,' Draco said to her in response, looking over her shoulder, intrigued. 'Yours has a lot more Dark Lord-related words in it. Mind if I ask why?'

'It's none of your business,' Wera retorted quickly. 'But you said something else the first time. I heard you. Something about making me bad.'

Malfoy tried his best not to blush, but he failed.

'I was just referring to that night we broke almost all of the school rules,' he muttered nervously, caught unprepared. 'By bad I meant – '

'You do remember the kiss, don't you? Don't lie to me,' the girl warned just as Draco opened his mouth to object. She desperately looked around the classroom for a clock. What she needed more than anything now was time.

Draco swallowed hard, avoiding her piercing stare.

'Well… I was kind of waiting for you to bring it up,' he confessed rather shyly, which, given the person he was, was really saying something. 'You're supposed to be the courageous one, so…'

'Yeah, whatever,' Wera shook her head hastily. 'Look, there's something serious going on here, so I'll just cut to the chase and ask the important questions…'

Malfoy stifled a smile. There was something serious going on between them!

'…do you like me and do you want to be with me?'

This was a bit too much for Draco to handle. He still wasn't mature enough to reveal his feelings in front of someone this easily. 'He decided on a Slytherin approach to the situation:

'Is that a trick question?'

'Not at all. Don't waste my time. It's now or never. Do you want me?'

Slowly, uneasily, with a vivid blush on his face, Draco nodded.

'Great,' Wera prompted. 'Will you think the same in ten years?'

Draco thought about it. His age allowed him to believe that all things he knew he knew with great certainty.

'Hmm… will you still be the same mudblood then?'

'Give or take a few tattoos, yes.'

'Then yes, definitely.'

'Brilliant. Listen,' Wera sighed, struggling with a desperate teenage wish to kiss him goodbye, 'I have a bit of work to do now, you see. I have to leave for a while… but tell Snape that when I'm back, he can punish me with extra work all he wants.' She stood up hastily from the desk and rushed to the door of the classroom. Malfoy followed her instantly.

'Wait,' he stood in her way in the door frame, staring anxiously at her, 'how long will you be gone?'

Wera felt as if her heart was being chopped to tiny pieces upon meeting that worried, innocent stare of the clueless boy.

'Well…'

'An hour? Or less?' he asked hopefully.

It hurt too much to put out that light in his eyes.

'Maybe,' Wera uttered heavily, avoiding his imploring look, 'a bit longer.'

'Are you breaking up with me?' Draco blurted out in frustration. Wera sighed again. Her heart was already going through the grinder.

'Look,' she began in a sad voice, 'we're not really dating…'

'But – '

'…but if you want us to be dating one day, do as I say and stay here and tell Snape what I told you. Please. If you want me to date you. It'll be okay. And tell him… tell him I'll miss him as a teacher.'

'What?' Draco frowned in disbelief.

'Trust me. I might be back very soon, who knows. I just… need to talk to a teacher…'

She dashed out of the room and didn't stop running as fast as she could until she was three floors above the dungeons. Her heart was aching for saying goodbye to Malfoy this way. But had there been any proper goodbye, she'd never be able to leave.

Wera knew exactly what to do. She couldn't go to Snape; he had enough of other people's problems to solve already. And Dumbledore was not in Hogwarts… She needed to talk to someone who knew something about the future. Not a centaur, as they rarely gave advice human beings could understand. That left her with only one other option. Wera prayed that she would find Professor Trelawney in her office, even though she was technically not currently teaching, and prayed even harder that she would find her there sober…

She was at the strange door of the Divination classroom when a devastating emotion came over her. What if her only plan didn't work? What if things never got fixed? What if she remained stuck in the past just to watch her future boyfriend grow high hopes for a better life and die a few months later at the hand of the furious Dark Lord, before he'd even turned sixteen? And it would all be her fault, because she just had to interfere… The Ministry accident was her fault as well – if she hadn't pulled Malfoy away from the hourglass… And she'd always blamed him for everything. She'd never let him know his value to her as much as he deserved to. Now, she might never get to see herself with him…

She sat at the odd staircase to the Divination classroom, then, after a long, heavy sigh, broke down and started crying.

Wera had been crying for about fifteen minutes when she unexpectedly heard someone ascend up the stairs. She gasped in sheer terror at the ridiculous thought that it could be Draco Malfoy, but, after a while, she found a reason to feel relieved. It was Luna Lovegood.

The strange blond-haired girl stopped distractedly in front of Wera and eyed her up and down.

'You look exceptionally sad,' Luna stated dreamily. 'Is there anything I can do to help you?'

Touched by this suggestion, Wera renewed her weeping.

'I – I don't think so,' she whimpered, shaking in between the sobs. 'I wish you could… but you can't…'

'What is it that you are sad about?' Luna inquired curiously.

Wera shook her head. She was on the verge of saying the usual "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," but then thought better of it. After all, she was talking to Luna Lovegood.

'Well,' Wera began uncertainly, deciding to at least share the problems she'd been storing with someone. What the hell; soon, it wouldn't make a difference. 'What if I told you… that I'm not an ordinary fourth-year at Hogwarts… That I'm not really fourteen, I just feel that way… but my mind is really that of a nineteen-year-old because I come from the future… God, this sounds awful… And it was all an accident, you see, and I'm looking for a way back to my time, because if I stay here, I'll mess up time beyond repair – if I haven't already – and not only will this condemn the wizarding world to eternal darkness, but it will also lead to the death of the man I love, who will never get to be with me in the future again… Okay, I get it… That's too crazy even for you…'

Luna smiled cheerfully at Wera.

'Things have a way of working themselves out,' she said, as if she was forecasting the weather. 'My dad always says time has an ultimate direction, and its course is like a labyrinth – whichever path it takes, it always finds a way to get where it's headed.'

Wera looked up at Luna weakly with her swollen eyes.

'You think?'

'It makes sense to me,' Luna shrugged. 'Things happen for a reason. Everything exists and happens for a reason, even Nargles. Maybe time was trying to show you something you didn't see at first that was right before your eyes… so it decided to take you elsewhere to help you see it. Although,' the girl added, 'everyone knows that the things we look for are found exactly where we started looking, but not before we've looked everywhere else.'

'But how do I know where – or when – was it that I started looking?' Wera asked desperately. 'Is it here? Or was it in the future? And if it was, why has time sent me back here now?'

'Sometimes we see things better from a distance,' Luna stated mysteriously.

'But I'm short-sighted! Perhaps I should have done something differently back then…'

'I think you should see Professor Trelawney,' Luna suggested. 'She's been very useful to me these days. In fact, she makes lots of really good prophecies now that she's lost her job and is constantly drunk on sherry. I've come to see her for another prophecy today, but you can go in instead; it looks like you need one more than I do. For tomorrow, she'd predicted for me that I'll be involved in a great adventure, that I'll make friends in unexpected circumstances, witness something extraordinary, stare into the eyes of Death itself and receive minor injuries. Isn't it wonderful?' she exclaimed.

Wera knew well Trelawney was, despite everything, a true Seer. This prophecy therefore meant that…

'The O.W.L.s are tomorrow!' Wera shrieked in panic. 'For the fifth-years! Then… the Ministry… the Dark Lord… oh, no… Sirius… and everyone… oh, why does everything have to happen in the wrong time?'

'Technically, there is no wrong time,' Luna retorted. 'There is only – '

But Wera had already rushed into Trelawney's office. Her eyes searched madly for the teacher. Finally, they found her, sleeping in a crimson couch, hugging a few bottles of sherry.

Wera approached the professor hesitantly, not knowing whether she was seeing a person in a state to help her. Nevertheless, Trelawney was the only solution she had.

She cleared her throat cautiously and touched the sleeve of the sleeping woman.

'Excuse me,' the girl began, 'Professor Trelawney? Can you hear me? So sorry to wake you up, but…'

But the professor wasn't moving. Suddenly, a voice in Wera's head scolded her for being so polite yet ineffective. This was a matter of life and death. The future of the entire wizarding world was at stake.

'This is a matter of life and death!' Wera exclaimed dramatically, resorting to a more desperate approach. 'The future of the entire wizarding world is at stake!'

Professor Trelawney woke up with a scream. Wera screamed too. The professor then looked around, puzzled and a little embarrassed, felt about the couch for her glasses and, when she'd finally found them, turned absent-mindedly to the student:

'What is it, dear? You gave me a fright. Please be more careful next time.'

Wera decided to drop the unnecessary, time-wasting beating around the bush.

'I'm sorry, Professor Trelawney… I came here to ask you something.'

The more aware Trelawney became of what was happening around her, the more hostile she began to sound.

'I'm afraid I'm not in the mood to tell the story of how I lost the post of a Divination teacher,' she retorted sharply, 'I have a hangov – I mean, I'm not feeling well. Besides, I do not wish to talk about _her_.'

'Please, Professor… this isn't about Umbridge. I want to ask you a question about the future…'

Trelawney sniffed, her eyes narrowed and she said bitterly:

'Well, dear, for some time now _some people_ have been _insinuating_ that I do not possess a gift when it comes to seeing into the future… So why don't you go ask that _mule_…'

'I want to ask _you_,' Wera repeated stubbornly, 'because this is a matter of utmost importance. I know you're the only one who can help me. Besides,' she added earnestly, 'you'll always be the only Divination professor to me.'

At these words, Trelawney's expression changed. She still appeared indignant for not being a professor anymore, but this time she also seemed touched, flattered. She cleared her throat and spoke to Wera more softly, faint clinking coming from her numerous bracelets as her hands shook mid-speech:

'Lynson, is it? Yes, dear, I've always known that there'll be students, few as they may be, who will not be fooled by the hypocritical judgment of the Ministry and will remember the truth I've shown them long after I'm no longer teaching… I will answer your questions to the best of my ability. Tell me what the matter is and I will consult my Inner Eye about it to aid you on your way to seeing the truth.'

Wera took a deep breath. The sooner she got an answer, the better. Outside, the sun was already setting.

'I just want to ask you one thing: is it possible to travel forward in time? To the future? I mean, I know one can go _back_ in time, but…'

Trelawney frowned. Wera couldn't tell if she was dissatisfied or just contemplating.

'Dear girl,' the professor began, 'with all due respect, I am – was – a Divination professor. My area of academics is predicting the future, not time travel. However, I will try to share the scarce knowledge I have on this subject as time is a truly complicated matter and any knowledge humans possess about its mechanisms is, at best, scarce. But I am puzzled by the strange question you're asking,' she confessed, eyeing Wera suspiciously. Wera cleared her throat nervously again.

'I just… I wanted to know if wizards had a way of exploring the future… to experience it in person, perhaps…'

'Oh, my poor misinformed child!' Trelawney exclaimed with a trace of condescension in her voice, but Wera knew this was good, because the professor grew more pleased by the minute. 'If that was possible, there would be no use of Divination, would it? It is, naturally, impossible to travel to the future.'

'Impossible?' Wera repeated hollowly. 'But, say that a wizard travels back in time by mistake, and they want to go back to their time…'

'Then they'll have to wait until their future becomes their present, obviously,' the former Divination teacher replied sternly. 'If they get to the same future they left at all. Time is a complicated matter, dear. A simple act of a single person can change the course of time forever. This is why it is not possible to travel to the future – and thank goodness it isn't. Imagine the chaos if it were otherwise!'

'But… if a mistake has been made… and something in time must be undone… if there's a way to go back, there must be a way to go forth…'

'It isn't possible to _undo_ time, dear, and I can see your flawed mundane thinking showing in your comments about going "back" or "forth",' estimated Professor Trelawney. 'Most people, like yourself, imagine time having a linear structure, in which the beginning of the timeline is the past, the end is the future, and the present is somewhere in the middle. People blind to the universal truth think that. There is no such thing as a timeline; there is no back and forth, beginning, ending, or middle. Time is a circle, dear, not a line. A circle composed of nothing but past and future, and the present is merely a short, fleeting moment, a blink of an eye which is really nothing but the border between the past and the future. It's only there for us to be able to tell one from the other. There's no start and finish; past and future follow each other ceaselessly. But most of the common folk don't see it. For this, you must possess a gift... Anyone can tell you that where the past ends, the future begins. Few, however, realize the circular structure of time well enough to understand that it is the other way around as well.'

Wera frowned, trying to reflect on these words, while her brain drew a mental chart of a circle divided into two, one half past, and one half future, and the present was nothing but the two little points where the hemispheres met. She'd never been really good at geometry.

'Um, what do you mean, exactly?' she asked awkwardly.

'Broaden your mind!' Trelawney scolded her impatiently. 'Open your Inner Eye! Do you not see?'

Wera tried her best. Analysis, at least, she was good at.

Let's see… where the past ends, the future begins… obviously… But if time was a circle, then future was followed by past again… and the cycle went on until the end – no, there was no end of time… the cycle went on forever...

'This means that where the future _ends_, the past begins,' she said cautiously. 'Because one starts right after the other, and that way they keep on going…'

And then it dawned on her. "_Where the future ends, the past begins…"_ Wera's future had ended with the breaking of that hourglass in the Ministry, and from then on her past had begun… That was the crucial point. That was where the key to unraveling the mystery lay – where it had started out all along; only, like Luna had implied, she couldn't find it until she'd looked everywhere else for it. The Time Room in the Department of Mysteries! How could she have been so stupid? If there was a place in the world where, time-wise, everything was possible, this was it…

The thought had, of course, crossed her mind a few times, but she'd always dismissed it as too intuitive. Besides, Umbridge had tightened the security at Hogwarts so much that it was now impossible for any student to leave the castle's territory.

While Umbridge was around, there was nothing that could be done…

…but, Wera remembered quickly, if the crucial O.W.L.s after which Harry and company would break into the Ministry of Magic were tomorrow, the same day when Luna would go with them on a great adventure and fly them to the Ministry on a few thestrals, the same day Umbridge would be kidnapped by centaurs… then maybe tomorrow everything would seem a lot more possible. If Wera estimated her time properly, she might even be lucky enough to arrive in the right place and moment to catch the desired transport.

'That's right, dear, that's right!' Trelawney's cheer of approval made her snap out of her thoughts regarding her plan. 'I see you're not quite as narrow-minded as most of the students I see. Yes, open your mind and you'll find the answers…'

Open your mind… Find the answers… Wera's brain was working rapidly and madly processing information. When she was in the Ministry with Draco, she was, deep inside, trying to find the answer to the question whether or not, in other circumstances, in a different time and place, she'd still fall in love with Draco – and he with her. The raw time that had poured over her had shown her the answer the hard way. Now she knew what she had to fix. She had to go to the Ministry tomorrow – for tomorrow was her only chance – try to somehow go to that moment in the future when the hourglass was broken, and change something about it. She now knew it wasn't the hourglass she had to fix – it was all of the doubts she'd ever felt about Malfoy, all the times she'd thought they weren't meant to be, all the times she'd mistreated him, not trusted him or blamed him for everything. Wera thought carefully, trying to remember their last time together in the future to the littlest detail. It was time to think where _she'_d gone wrong. What had the last words she'd said to him been? "_I'm gonna kill you, you dumb son of a –_ " Wera's heart sank deep into a dreadful, petrified state. Well, she thought with self-disgusted irony, you _are_ going to kill him inadvertently, you moron, if you don't set everything straight within less than twenty-four hours…

She had already thought out the plan. The only trouble with it was how to, once she'd got to the Ministry, reach that moment when the hourglass was broken there four years later, given that it was impossible to travel to the future…

'Professor Trelawney?' Wera uttered absent-mindedly. She remembered the circle of time and the two points of present on opposite sides of the circle, in the places where past and future coincided. 'Is it possible for _two_ presents to exist simultaneously? Or blend in at some point? Like, for instance, if one has two parallel lives in time?'

Professor Trelawney laughed.

'Oh, my dear, your logic once more stands in your way while you're trying to find the truth! Don't think of the temporal circle so… literally, so… materially. Time is composed of past and future, but it's not divided into two halves… There is all of the past, and all of the future. They are not fragments. So, naturally, there is only one present.'

'But…' Wera began, confused, her mind trying to work on a surreal level. 'But didn't you just say that… where the past ends, the future begins… That point of time is the present. And, where the future ends, the past begins… which is…'

'Also the present,' Trelawney smiled. 'It's not an alternative present, dear. It's one and the same thing.'

'Wait, you mean that where the past ends and the future begins and where the future ends and the past begins are one and the same moment? But in this case, it is in _that_ moment that the past will end _and_ the future will begin! That's where it all falls into place! And that's where I need to be! I don't have to do anything but change the present… and then, my other present will change too, because they're one and the same thing!'

To any sane bystander, this monologue would sound like complete nonsense, as there is a thin line between gibberish and metaphysics. But Trelawney understood Wera perfectly.

'There!' the professor clasped hands happily together. 'Now you're getting the hang of it! You know, you have a considerable potential for – '

But, as usual, Wera had already rushed out of the Divination classroom, because she knew what she needed to know, and it'd take a lot of time to prepare the revised plan for tomorrow. It required thinking, mostly – remembering exactly what and when had happened – or would happen – this year at Hogwarts. Knowing this would be a great advantage. Not knowing it – fatal. Because Wera knew well, despite everything, rule number one in messing with the matters of time: "_You must not be seen_."

On another note, it was, to an extent, regrettable that Wera left Trelawney's office so soon, because it was mere moments after she'd left that Trelawney received a hungover illumination; a vision of the future. Each of her eyes stared in different directions, her voice changed abruptly, as if it had turned into a choir of eerie breaths, and it spoke out a prophecy Wera could have found extremely relevant had she only been there to hear it:

_"In the day the first prophecy is heard by the one who defeated the Dark Lord once, the thread of time will break and a woman out of time will have to put it back together. She will stitch it up with her own blood, with her own blood will she make a bond with time to save a life… And life will run through her veins instead of blood, and life will she give… And the child that carries her blood will carry the blood of Time itself… And he shall be a master of time, for he shall find no places he cannot go in the past or the future… He shall be the comrade of Death and the bringer of life…_

_And he will bear the name of a constellation…" _


	8. Chapter 8: Out Of Time

**Chapter eight**

**Out Of Time**

Draco Malfoy was in the middle of completing the theoretical part of his Charms examination when someone nudged him in the ribs fervently – which was impossible, because no one was seen beside him.

'Psst!' Wera whispered from underneath the invisibility cloak. 'How's it going?'

Draco barely stifled a frightened yelp and when the other students turned to see who was making noise, he pretended to have been stung by a fictional mosquito.

A moment later, he looked around suspiciously and whispered conspiratorially in the direction of where he assumed Wera should be:

'I'm in the middle of an exam, if you must know. Why are you here? And how'd you get your hands on – '

'I snatched – um, borrowed Potter's cloak for a while. I'll return it immediately, don't worry. He'll need it today.'

'Hey,' Malfoy's brain gave birth to a bright and cunning idea, 'now that you're here being invisible and all, you can help me cheat on the test! Do you have your textbooks with you?'

'What?' Wera hissed frantically. 'No way! That's not what I'm here for!'

'But my future depends on it!' Malfoy complained quietly.

'Your future depends a lot more on what I'm here for. Listen,' Wera replied as discreetly as she could, 'do you still want to be my boyfriend?'

'Do you really think now's the time to ask me that?'

'I'll take that as a "yes". Now listen carefully. Today I will ask you to do something really, really illegal with me. Kind of like a mission. If you agree, I will marry you and have your babies.'

Malfoy hesitated.

'Am I expected to sneak out of the exam now?' he asked nervously. Wera rolled her eyes, although he couldn't see it.

'No… You stay here and finish your exam as you should. Don't think of anything else. Now listen to my instructions very, very carefully…'

'I'm all ears.'

'At a certain time today Umbridge will give you a task to complete… since you're a member of that Quick Thinking Squad, or whatever it was… she'll ask you to capture Potter's associates because they're up to something. You will do so and take them to her office. Later on, Umbridge will leave for the Forbidden Forest with Potter and Granger. You will stay in her office to guard the rest of Potter's crew, as she says. At some point, the students you're guarding will try to break free, and they'll succeed because Ginny Weasley will cast a Bat Bogey Hex upon you. Does that make any sense?'

'You're completely mental.'

'Anyway, _once_ you're under the Bat Bogey Hex, wait for me there… not that you will have a choice… Then I'll come to pick you up and take you somewhere private where I can show you something.'

Malfoy ventured to produce a smirk.

'And what is it you'll be showing me?' he asked in a dirty voice.

'Nothing Pansy Parkinson would. But I assure you that, if you do as I say, you will get to have the time of your life.'

XXX

The Bat Bogey Hex wasn't a pleasant one. In fact, if Malfoy had a choice right now, he'd prefer Avada Kedavra. He was whimpering in the center of the swarm of flying bogies that surrounded him, humiliated and unable to understand how Wera had managed to predict his bitter fate. Voices of unpleasant people he couldn't see for the cloud of slime rang around him until they died out. Clearly, he was alone, doomed to be miserable, helpless and covered in snot until a teacher showed up.

Little did he know that half the teachers were busy assisting the Order of the Phoenix right now, and the one who would have mercy on him – Umbridge – was being taken hostage by centaurs…

'Finite!' a voice echoed in Umbridge's office and the bat-shaped bogies disappeared. Draco inhaled slowly and carefully, too scared to breathe in through his nose.

Wera's face filled his vision and smiled.

'There you are, snotty!' she winked mockingly at him. He looked like he was about to cry. 'Come on, the horror is over. Now, quickly – to the Forbidden Forest!'

XXX

'Will you bother to explain to me where we're going?' Draco asked mistrustingly as he and Wera were sneaking cautiously through the dark woods. Wera was muttering something to herself.

'The less you know, the better,' she concluded briefly, ignoring his anxiety and irritation.

'Well, just answer me this, then: are we going to snog or not?'

'In the future, Malfoy. In the future.'

Malfoy pouted childishly and decided to be mad at Wera.

'Okay, then, what's this so called mission all about?' he inquired with a positive lack of curiosity.

'Here's the deal,' Wera began sternly, avoiding his angry stares as they walked past darker and damper trees. 'Today, Potter and his friends will break into the Ministry of Magic. They'll sneak into the Department of Mysteries and prevent the Dark Lord from obtaining a very powerful weapon.'

Draco gasped in indignation.

'Really? The bastards!'

'Of course,' Wera continued in a casual, bored voice, 'they'll later have to fight a bunch of Death Eaters, which will result in the death of one of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, a secret anti-Dark-Lord society.'

'Serves them right!' Draco exclaimed vengefully.

'The one who will die, however, will happen to be your distant uncle Sirius.'

'What?!'

'Look, the important thing now is not to interfere. We need to get to the Department of Mysteries ourselves, but we can't break in just like that, so we'll follow in Potter and crew's footsteps the entire way… _without them seeing us_,' Wera added pointedly and gave Draco a strict look. 'Is this clear?'

'And why is that?' Draco objected lazily. Wera groaned.

'Because their quest must go uninterrupted. It's important that they do everything the way it's meant to happen, because the destiny of the wizarding world currently lies in Potter's hands and it's up to him to carry out his mission flawlessly,' she explained with exasperation.

'Hah! That's so unfair! Why does Potter's mission have a priority over ours? Why is he always more important? So we can't be a part of his mission! Who cares? We've got a more important mission, whatever it is! I say we go on a cooler mission, we don't need these losers!'

'That's right,' the girl agreed with Malfoy patiently. 'And we will. Now we just have to follow them discreetly until they take off for London… There's Luna, she should draw the thestrals closer soon and once they're airborne, we can hop on one of the remaining ones and…'

'Wait,' Draco interrupted her with a hint of fear in his voice, 'you didn't just imply we were going to have to ride _thestrals_ to London, did you? Thestrals as in, harbingers of death, a bad omen, you can't see them unless you've seen someone die, they like raw and possibly human meat?'

Wera sighed and mentally cursed Malfoy for being so Malfoy all the time.

'See,' she turned to him angrily, pointing her index disapprovingly at his face, 'this is why Potter's missions are more important, Malfoy, and more successful than any of yours will ever be! It's 'cause he's a Gryffindor. When you tell a Gryffindor "Hey, let's go on an extremely dangerous adventure, let's risk our lives, let's do something suicidal and crazy," they say "yes" without a moment's hesitation, without asking questions or even knowing what it's all about… Stupid, extremely stupid tactics, of course, but at least they're doing something! And you, like a typical Slytherin, like a typical _Malfoy_, Malfoy, you start moaning about how uncomfortable a thestral ride will be! _That'_s why you'll never be a hero!'

Draco shrugged, unperturbed.

'Well,' he replied calmly, 'that's also why I will grow old and cowardly and _despite_ that you will still marry me and have my babies.'

'And why should I do that?' Wera snarled, furious, in his face.

'Because that's what you promised to do if I went on this mission with you, and Gryffindors don't go back on their promises…'

'Shh! Listen! They've left! Now we just have to lure the remaining thestrals closer…'

Wera fumbled through her schoolbag, took out a small knife (one she'd cleverly nicked from Malfoy) and made a shallow cut on her hand, yet one deep enough to draw blood.

'You're going to offer us as food?!' Malfoy whined.

'Shut up. I could have cut _you_.'

Soon enough, Draco started hearing invisible hooves thump closer and closer to him and feeling invisible nostrils sniff him and surround him. He shuddered. Wera didn't pay attention to any of it. She, unlike teenage Draco, had seen death, so she impassively mounted the nearest thestral and helped the frightened boy climb atop its bony back right behind her.

'What are you going to do now?' asked Draco anxiously, trembling. Wera smiled a wicked joyless grin in his direction.

'Me?' she said innocently. 'I'm going to get you back for that trick you pulled on me with the broomstick.'

She prodded the thestral's ribs with her feet and they soon shot with a mind-blowing speed – and many screams and complaints from Malfoy's side – through the air.

XXX

Following Harry, Ron, Hermione, Luna, Neville and Ginny through the corridors of the Ministry without being seen was a task difficult enough as it was, but Draco was making it even worse by constantly talking. He would indeed never make a hero, Wera was thinking grimly.

'I can't believe Weasley didn't see me at the entrance,' Draco was bragging thoughtlessly as usual. 'I was right behind him, on the other side of the booth!'

'Shut up and stop distracting me!' Wera tried to snarl at him soundlessly as they were rather familiarly creeping through the hallway leading to the Department of Mysteries. The other children were seen advancing quickly in the distance. 'We mustn't lose track of them!'

'Just follow the Gryffindor stench, you can't miss it,' Draco replied carelessly. 'It's really… Hey… Do you hear that?' he said, freezing on the spot.

Wera heard it too. There were confused voices whispering somewhere behind them, arguing. Wera grew tense. Tenser. From what they were saying, she could make out the approximate words:

'It has to be here somewhere… Follow my instructions, he said…'

'The _Lord_'s instructions, Bella. Trust me, I know where I'm going.'

'Yeah, I bet… Wait 'till I get my hands on the boy…'

'Not before he gets his hands on the prophecy. You know what _he_ said. I can feel them, they're close…'

'Feel them… You can't even feel you've put on too much cologne for this mission…'

Draco beamed like a small, blond and extremely stupid sun.

'It's my father!' he exclaimed happily. 'And aunt Bella!'

Wera didn't think this day could get any worse.

'Look, genius,' she began impatiently, 'I told you a million times why we should stay out of the way… Your precious relatives are here to fight, and lose, and soon this place is going to look like a – '

'But I don't want them to lose! They're my family! I want to fight by their side!'

'You can't help them win, you're just a kid,' Wera discouraged him passionately, on the verge of losing her temper. 'If you want to be fighting off Dementors for the rest of your short life in prison, be my guest. Besides… the Dark Lord will be here before the end of the night and he will not be too happy that your folks let a couple of kids get away right under their noses. Not to mention the Order of the Phoenix will stop by. And Dumbledore…'

Draco swallowed tensely.

'Do you still want to help them?' Wera urged, frowning.

'On second thought… they can handle themselves. They're grown-ups… and I'll probably just be in their way.'

'Good boy. Now let's go hide over there and wait for the Potter gang to enter the Rotating Room, like we discussed.'

'Can't we just go in after them?' Draco inquired.

'No, Your Brilliance! Do you want to be seen by them? Or worse – by your father? Besides, they'll probably seal the door behind them. Let's wait 'till your family breaks their spells and sneak in right after them… I don't think they'll be expecting anyone to go in after they've entered…'

The darkness of the corridor wasn't a very safe hiding place, but in their rush to get Harry and the prophecy the band of Death Eaters didn't notice the two small dark silhouettes in the corner next to the door they headed through. Still, Wera knew they couldn't always count on sheer luck.

'Now wh – ' Draco began to speak, but Wera covered his mouth with her hand and squeezed to prevent him from breaking the silence. She found herself, after all his bullying, deriving strange satisfaction from that act.

'Shh,' she uttered. 'They should all be in the Prophecy Room now. Let's get in.'

The good news was many of the doors were already marked. Wera wasn't sure which one was the door they needed, but she could tell by the sound of people arguing and breaking things coming from door number X which room everyone else was in.

'Great,' she muttered to herself, 'if this is the Prophecy Room, and they're about to fight in there now, then this means that room over there, the third marked one on the right, is the Time Room, which is the one we need.'

'But,' Draco protested hesitantly, 'are you sure we can't just… take a peek… into the others?'

Wera's look could kill from a distance of two hundred feet.

'Okay, okay,' the boy raised his hands defensively in front of his chest. 'I was just asking.'

Well, stop it. And ignore the sounds when they start fighting over there. Whatever happens, we don't interfere, alright?' Wera checked harshly to see if Draco had understood her. There was no room for mistakes this time. 'No distractions! We get in, we do what we came for, we get out – if we can, alive! Got it?'

'I like that plan,' Draco nodded. 'It's failure-proof.'

Wera took a deep breath, pushed the door of the Time Room cautiously and slowly slipped into it, Malfoy creeping obediently by her side. She closed the door behind her and Draco and they were trapped in a sea of silence. This was it. The big moment. Now or never. This was the time.

Even though it was familiar to her, the Time Room felt as eerie as ever, if not worse. It was as if, in this room, one fully felt his own life draining away… The moment she entered, Wera sensed how helpless she was against the force of time. Draco clung closer to her in fear.

Everything was different. It was as if the room had a timezone of its own; as if what was going on at the moment in the Prophecy Room was happening in another century. Here, everything was horridly peaceful and full of foreboding. There were no clocks to be seen, nor were there huge hourglasses, whole or broken. The air was still, way too still to come from the world of the living. The place emanated a feel of eternity… and death.

Wera swallowed hard. She looked around. The place wasn't like she remembered it at all. It was completely filled up by timeturners. They were indeed stacked in bags and boxes on the floor and beside the walls, but also on shelves, in cupboards, on tables, in strange glass containers, and even hanging from the chandelier. Wera was getting chills down her spine. The timeturners were whispering to her with their dry sand voices.

Draco was shaking slightly, poorly pretending he was okay.

'Well,' he began in a forcefully cheerful voice, 'I suppose that, in a place full of timeturners, we're looking for a… timeturner, right? It can't be a snitch,' he laughed feebly, but his laughter was lost and slaughtered by the reigning heavy silence.

Something seemed to be watching them.

'I suppose,' Wera said distractedly. 'But… wait… let me think… which one should we take? And what should we do with it? How did it go… let's see…' She muttered to herself tensely. Draco was looking at her not feeling too calm, either. '_Where the future ends, the past begins_… Okay, that's here. And here we are. _Where the future begins, the past ends…_'

Her words echoed through the vast room, steel and ominous. Wera didn't see that coming and shuddered against her will. The whispers from the walls died out and the place restored its frightful quietness.

Was it her, or did the room suddenly appear a bit… smaller?

'What's going on?' Draco asked in a thin, shaken voice. It was really clear to see now that he was, after all, just a child. And he was not at all Potter material.

'There has to be an answer somewhere,' Wera replied uncertainly, looking helplessly around for something besides timeturners, but there was nothing else. The room appeared bright, still and clean, but strangely unpleasant – like a room that had been inhabited by a recently deceased man.

And it seemed strangely narrow, and the air in the room was getting harder to breathe in…

'What are we looking for?' Malfoy asked, twitching fiercely. 'What kind of a timeturner, and why? I'm beginning to dislike the Potter life, you know…'

'There's been a temporal catastrophe,' Wera explained to him hastily, wishing she could hug and soothe him and tell him it would all get better soon, but that would sound like a lie coming from her lips right now. 'A time mix-up. We have to find a timeturner that can set the future straight – though I'm not sure what it looks like, or if it is here at all. If we don't succeed…'

'Yes?' Draco urged, his voice on the verge of a whimper.

'…we'll probably die,' Wera confessed heavily. 'You, especially. Because much of your past has been tampered with…'

'Um,' Draco was truly about to cry now, and this time he had a good reason, 'I hate to say this, but… bugger… The part about us dying… It looks like it can get arranged sooner than you think…'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, maybe it's just me being paranoid… but… I can swear I see the walls moving closer to us…'

He wasn't just being paranoid. Indeed, the Time Room, which had started out looking like a hall, now seemed like nothing but a room for rent. The bags by the walls seemed to be getting fewer. It was as if they were stuck in a bad dream.

And the process wasn't stopping…

'Does this mean…' Draco began, pale as a ghost, trying in vain to swallow his tears.

'It means we don't have much time,' Wera forced herself to sound optimistic, 'to find what can reverse this mess. Come on… start looking.'

'What for?' Draco uttered anxiously.

'Anything. Browse the timeturners. Show me anything that doesn't look like the rest. I'll do the same.'

They started scrabbling madly through the bags and shelves, while the room was becoming smaller and ever more silent. The candles in the chandelier flickered warningly every now and then.

They were all timeturners, all completely the same, and the room was filled with them from the floor to the ceiling. The search seemed futile. It wasn't long, however, before Draco let out an excited cry.

'Look! Over here!' he shouted, holding a regular-looking timeturner in his hand. Wera rushed over to him, her heart skipping several beats.

'What is it?' she asked frantically. 'Did you find the odd one out?'

'No,' Draco replied, 'but I noticed something odd about them all. See,' he pointed at the bottom of the little hourglass, 'they're all inscribed. Each one has a name on it… the name of a person… See this one, for example – "Rupert Stonewell". And this one says "Alice Bones"…'

Wera snatched the timeturner from the hand of the startled boy and took it to examine it, but instead of staring at the inscription, she placed it next to her ear.

Draco raised an eyebrow.

'What are you doing?'

But Wera was listening to the timeturner. She could actually hear the seconds – no, the little sand particles in the glass – falling away into the lower part of the hourglass as though they were ticking… ticking the time away…

This was where the whispers came from… And, now that she looked carefully at each and every one of them, the girl noticed the amount of sand in the upper halves of each of the timeturners was different…

'Strange,' Draco voiced out his confusing thoughts, 'putting names on timeturners. I doubt they're giving them out… Isn't it weird to put a person's name on a timeturner?'

Wera's eyes widened in a cold, horrific realization that made the breath freeze in her throat.

'No, she replied to Malfoy slowly, 'because these are not timeturners, Draco. There isn't a single one in here… They're _lives_.'

Draco shuddered.

'Wh-what do you mean "lives"?' he stammered with fright. 'L-lives of… real people?'

'They represent them,' Wera nodded morbidly. It was now getting really difficult to breathe. The room now barely contained one shelf and two cupboards. 'The hourglasses. The sand is… it shows how much they have left to live. When all the sand has reached the lower half of – '

'I get it,' Draco interrupted her quickly. 'And people really… their lives depend on… What happens if one of them gets broken?'

'Guess.'

'Bugger,' Draco muttered to himself. 'But we must do something! There must be an hourglass… I mean, a lifeglass… around here that has my name on it.' He drew out his wand and shouted loudly: 'Accio hourglass signed "Draco Malfoy"!'

To his own surprise, the spell worked. To his greater surprise, two hourglasses fell into the palm of his hand. Draco clutched them tightly and examined them. They both had his name inscribed at the bottom.

'Accio Wera Lynson's hourglass!' the boy tried again, after a moment's hesitation. This time, however, nothing happened.

Wera was now quickly beginning to think Trelawney style… "Broaden your mind…" Clearly, her hourglass wasn't here because her place wasn't in this time… Here, Wera didn't count as alive. Draco, on the other hand, currently had two presents, which was probably a disruption caused by Wera since she'd changed the course of time with her recent actions. She'd feel guilty about it, but there was no time for that. She had to figure out what the room expected of them before they ran out of time and the walls crushed them. There had to be a key to the puzzle, a way out of the labyrinth. There always was.

She tried to ignore Draco's increasingly feverish shaking as he fixed his eyes on one hourglass and then on the other. Think clearly, Wera, she urged herself. What did the room want with the two hourglasses? Where the future begins, the past ends… or the other way around…

It seemed the room renewed its hair-raising whispers the moment it felt her very thoughts about the past and the future. Wera shook uneasily and stared desperately at Draco's hourglasses.

The amount of sand in each of them, she soon noticed, was about half the total amount of sand in every hourglass in the room. The level of sand in them was changing, wavering, but unlike the rest. The sand in these two hourglasses didn't simply fall to the bottom – it seemed to disappear and reappear every now and then. And – Wera saw, to her unpleasant amazement, a connection between them: the emptier one of them became, the fuller the other one got…

Wera gasped, then felt her heart distancing itself from her mind for a while so as not to experience the heavy, bitter feeling of hopelessness.

'There can only be one,' she announced blankly. Draco raised his head and glanced up at her, frightened and perplexed. 'You're living two lives right now, simultaneously… but you can only continue to exist in one,' the girl sighed morbidly. She finally knew what Trelawney's words meant. There was only one present, and any redundant present needed to be eliminated.

'What are you saying?' Draco yelped in sheer terror. 'How is this possible?'

Wera felt her heart breaking by the minute. She clung closer to Draco, partly because there was not much room left in the place anymore. The shelves and bags had vanished; all that was left in the Time Room now, apart from them and the two hourglasses in Malfoy's hand, was the chandelier and a cupboard. Wera held Draco's other hand to keep him from panicking.

'There's no time to explain,' she said, her voice trembling almost as heavily as his. 'All you need to know is one hourglass is connected to your current self, in whose life I've meddled too much and who therefore doesn't have much of a future… see, that's the emptier one… And the other one is… it's another you who never had anything to do with me at the age of fifteen and has a long life… Draco,' Wera turned to him, aggrieved, 'I think you need to break one of them to keep living. To make the room stop shrinking. There can only be one of you. And trust me, I know what I'm saying. Choose the hourglass with the more sand in it… break the other one… and – and keep living your life the way it should be: long…'

Tears were swelling in Draco's eyes. To the extent he understood what the situation was, he was too shaken to react.

'But… If I break the one with my current life in it… then I'll die, won't I?' he uttered faintly. Wera's eyes struggled with her own tears.

'Y-yes… but… only for a little while… It probably won't hurt… And you'll wake up again a moment later, all grown up, with your life before you…'

'And I won't remember anything of how I met you, will I?' Draco finished bitterly. Wera sobbed.

'No, you won't,' she lowered her head in resignation. 'Not of what we had this year, anyway. But I promise you… I swear… that we'll be together one day, again, we'll meet again, you'll see…' she assured him helplessly. But Draco didn't seem convinced. His eyes started shedding tears of anger, not desperation.

'No!' he shouted stubbornly. 'That's a lie! You're saying this just to comfort me, so that I can do what you told me and prolong my existence!'

Wera was now crying as well, above all with panic, as the walls were closing rapidly in on them. The whispers had grown louder; the cupboard had vanished.

'No… no… I'm not lying, I swear… please, Draco, we're running out of time…'

'You lie!' cried Draco, shaking and hurt. 'You promised me! You promised you'd be my girlfriend after we completed this mission! Do you think I'm stupid?' He watched Wera sob restlessly in front of him, misinterpreting her motives as usual, mistaking her panic for guilt.

'Do you think I want to see you die?' Wera screamed, her heart about to burst with pain over the fact that, on top of it all, they were fighting again. She was barely taking breaths in the narrowing room. 'Do you think I'll enjoy this?'

'And do you think I'd want to choose _this_ fate for myself?' shouted Draco at her in response, equally mad with hurting. 'A long life without you? Not knowing what we had? I'd rather spend the little life I'm entitled with you than grow old with Pansy Parkinson! How _dare_ you try to trick me? I promised I'd bully your bullies for you!'

'Draco… please… you don't understand…'

'It's _my_ life to choose,' Draco said ominously, 'and I choose the one I have now!'

With these words, before Wera could stop him, he threw the fuller hourglass with all his strength towards the floor and watched the glass smash to a million pieces. Sand spilled ominously across the floor.

'No… no…' Wera whimpered, but it was too late.

The sand quickly left the broken vessel, but did not return to the other one. The connection hadn't been broken; instead, the little sand stored in the container of Draco's current life began to decrease fast, as if it was pouring out into an invisible black hole. Wera didn't expect this to happen, but it made horrific sense. The room didn't want _this_ Draco to survive; time was obliged to heal itself and continue its right path at the cost of obliterating every other path it had taken. The girl stared at Draco in blind terror. He, on the other hand, stared back at her with something of amazement, as if he was experiencing something new and unfamiliar. His eyes lost their focus. For a moment, blinded by panic, Wera didn't understand what was going on. But then, she saw the difference.

The boy's face started changing slowly, as if Wera was watching a transfiguration in slow motion. Draco's face thinned and slightly elongated; its features became sharper, more angular, more masculine. He grew taller, his limbs grew longer, until his uniform didn't fit him anymore… Wera blinked against his perplexed eyes to recognize the progressively maturing features of the twenty-year-old Draco she knew. Ages ago, she'd rejoice just to see him like that again, but the change proceeded, and Wera discovered in heart-stopping horror that there was now nothing in Draco's hourglass left…

The room was darkening; the lights flickered and started to fade; the voices now whispering from nowhere sounded as if they were about to cackle. They knew well what was about to happen now that Draco's only life left had drained away; as did Wera. Draco's life was quickly leaving his body and that was the reason he was getting older. The boy, who was now a young man standing before her, would keep on changing until time got what it wanted – and he wouldn't remain young for long…

Wera, commanded by her brain madly thinking of ways to reverse the catastrophe, snapped out of the panic and drew out her wand, ready to act, ready to do anything that could influence the outcome of it all, as little her chance to succeed was.

'Bombarda!' she shrieked with last-minute determination, pointing the wand at the chandelier adorned with hourglasses, and broken glass and sand flew everywhere. The lights instantly went out, but Wera sprang quickly to the ground ignoring them, snatched the hourglass from the seemingly hypnotized and continuously aging Draco, who had lost his balance in the explosion, and started grasping handfuls of sand from the floor. In the rush of her mindless panic, she unscrewed the lid of the empty yet still intact hourglass and attempted frantically to stuff the sand laden with other people's lives into it, but it kept vanishing and vanishing…

Wera started crying restlessly, looking around madly, like a savage or a lunatic, for a solution. The room wasn't leaving her a choice, a loophole, anything. Draco was lying motionless on the floor, covered in sand and glass, and underneath it all, he looked about thirty-five… The first wrinkles of age were appearing on his still innocently surprised face. Dark circles formed around his eyes; he now looked somewhat nostalgic yet ever so beautiful to Wera…

'No… no… You can't do this… there must be a way…' the girl was stammering through her sobs, abandoning all sanity, refusing to let the hopelessness get to her, forgetting that the end of Draco in the room might mean the end of the wizarding world as it was as well, oblivious to the fact that she would die too in the relentlessly shrinking room. All that mattered to her now was to save Malfoy. But the room would finish them off both, one way or another… Even if she did manage to slow down Draco's growth – and she had no idea how to do this – the place would still grind them both to dust. Time had to heal its loose ends by making Wera and Draco disappear, and no matter what Wera did, this would inevitably happen. But her mind was not seeing this right now. All it contained was the realization that the love of her life was aging to his death before her eyes, and she needed to do something, _anything_, to make the process stop…

'No, no, please don't…' she moaned to herself, crying over Draco's now fifty-year-old body, one of her hands around his neck, the other clutching the hourglass madly. 'Don't do this to me… Don't you die on me now, Draco, you son of a bitch… You always do that,' she sobbed ceaselessly, driven mad with grief and panic, her heart an endless bleeding well, an open wound. 'You enjoy that, don't you… making me suffer… Oh, dammit, it's all my fault… I'm sorry… I ruined your future, your past, your life, I killed you… A-and… the worst part is I never showed you how much – how much I valued every moment spent with you… how h-happy I was with you…'

The tears didn't seem to end. The girl was now banging on the floor with her spare hand, her heart writhing in agony. Blood was dripping from her hand where she'd hit glass, but she didn't feel it. Her pulse was pounding wildly in her head; the world was spinning. There was nothing to do, nothing to say. She'd learned her lesson, but she'd learned it much too late…

'I wasted so much time criticizing you, doubting you, worrying if we'd stick together,' Wera wailed on, pressing herself desperately to the man's chest, a man who now looked very different from the Draco she knew; his arms twig-like and feeble, his face pale and wrinkled, his hair thinning and slowly turning completely white. 'I never should have wondered what would happen to us in different times... I cherish every second I spend with you, every moment I spend thinking of you… I don't want you to go… I don't care how old you are… I know I'll love you at any time, 'till the end of time, I love your present, past and future self… You're so beautiful to me, Draco, please don't give up; please, don't give into it…' she urged, but her hope was leaving her along with her denial.

Her blood was trickling into the empty hourglass, which she was now squeezing with both of her hands. It seemed this change of substance in the lifeglass drove Draco, now a very weak, dying old man, to awake from his trance. Wera's heart could burst with a glimmer of the faintest hope, but the few blood drops instantly vanished from the vessel as well.

Draco turned his snow-white head to Wera and looked straight into her face with sad, but not regretful eyes, pale as his increasingly thinning face. Wera was shaking all over.

'You know,' the old man uttered with difficulty in a feeble, hoarse voice, in her direction, 'you look really good for a mudblood.'

'Oh, go to hell!' Wera shrieked in helpless panic. 'Why are you being nice to me when I don't deserve it? Why do you love me when it hurts the most?' She banged on his chest weakly, squirming with pain inside, trying to chase away the unbearable thought that she would soon lose the one thing in her life she never needed an excuse to love endlessly, the only one that made life make any sense. 'Why aren't you fighting? This isn't about me anymore! It's not just that I can't imagine my life without you… I can't imagine _the_ _world_ going on without you! Please, live, you bastard, for the world…'

But Draco was drawing his final breaths and, even in her current state of mind, Wera painfully realized that.

'Mudblood,' she last heard his cracked lips utter before he stopped breathing.

Wera stared into the cold, empty eyes of the motionless body dumbstruck, her brain refusing to process this information.

'Mudblood,' she muttered to herself as if nothing that was happening around her was real. 'Blood… that's it… blood… The hourglasses,' she reflected out loud like she was analyzing a simple test question in school, like she was solving a child's riddle, 'they don't need to be filled with time. Not simple blood, either. They need… life…'

Draco needed life flowing in his veins. More than time borrowed from other people, more than just shed blood – but blood that carried a life given to him and given up for him. Wera's mind became clear, bright and sharper than a razorblade.

She wouldn't waste time a second longer.

There was plenty of glass lying around in the sand piles on the floor. Each shard was sharp enough to cut through skin. Especially when given a little push.

With a feeling of relief and joy, Wera finally relaxed, leaning over the hourglass as she was quickly filling it with the blood streaming from her wrists slit open. She didn't know what would happen, and she was too drained to care as her strength and life were leaving her body. What mattered was that she'd tried her best, and she'd given Draco what he'd always deserved…

A part of her mind was panicking, praying to see the man draw a breath again, call her "mudblood", insult her, accuse her, anything. Another part knew the room wouldn't let this happen, and even if it did, by the time that happened, they'd already be crushed by the narrowing walls. But the only truly functioning part of Wera's mind through the expanding, encompassing blur was calm and certain that somewhere, in whatever was left of her soul after her death, Draco would never truly die…

The girl held the old man's cold, lifeless hand in hers. She didn't have the strength for anything else.

'You know,' she uttered tenderly and gazed into the glass-like eyes of the corpse beside her, 'it's not so bad, come to think of it. At least I'm here with you.'

She closed her eyes peacefully before the room engulfed them. Then, all the light drained away.


	9. Chapter 9: The Future

**Chapter nine**

**The Future**

Wera opened her eyes and hated it, like every other time things like this happened. Then, the bitter recent memories caught up with her mind and made her very existence hurt unbearably.

She let out a shriek of inner agony and started sobbing. To her nearly lethal surprise, a smooth thin hand reached out and brushed away her brimming tears.

'It's alright, mudblood,' Draco appeared in sight, alive, beaming and astonishingly twenty-year-old. Wera's jaw dropped. 'Had a nightmare or something?'

Wera's brain, frozen with terror and grief, went numb as if it had just been forcefully shoved into a hot tub. It could only command her to say the silly words:

'What happened? At the Ministry? How come you're okay?'

'I'm not so sure myself,' Draco replied with a rather conceded smile. 'You passed out at the Ministry. I really have no idea why it wasn't me who did… But don't worry, everything is fine now, the mission is completed and everything…'

'Mission?' Wera repeated idiotically.

'Yeah, the Death Eater mission… I brought the Dark Lord the timeturner he asked for… no, don't panic just yet. It didn't work for him, so he eventually returned it to me. I won't be given any more assignments,' Draco announced. 'Well,' he added less cheerfully, 'that's 'cause the last one wasn't successful, of course… So I won't get to lose my Mark after all… But hey, how different would it have been, really? I'll always be the same Malfoy… give or take a few tattoos…'

An alarming bell rang in Wera's mind.

'What?' she asked distractedly.

'Said I wasn't getting the Mark off,' Draco repeated and snuggled closer to her, to her continuous dismay, completely alive and real. 'But at least I'm off the hook. The Dark Lord won't punish me. He actually let me keep the timeturner – and, can you imagine that, I saw later on that it has my name on it! Creepy, isn't it? But also kinda cool…'

"Calm down, Wera," Wera thought. "He's alive and well and it is not the time to wonder why. Treasure it. Cherish it. Rejoice. And most of all, act normal."

'Make sure you don't break it,' the girl replied, in the most carefree voice she could muster. 'You never know if it'll save your life.'

'Oh, no, I've already tried to work it out. I think it's broken. It didn't manage to transport me a second back in time. But you can save it as a souvenir from the Ministry screw-up, to remind you of my stupidity. Or, you know, something with sentimental value. Save it for the time when you'll marry me and have my babies.'

"Well, that's just too much," Wera thought angrily. She couldn't remain indifferent to a second strange verbal coincidence.

'What?' she said again, this time pointedly.

'What?' Draco asked innocently. 'You look tense, mudblood. Can I get you anything?'

'Bring me that timeturner of yours to have a look at,' Wera replied, attempting to sound impassive. There was a fair chance Malfoy was keeping something from her – and that was a very likely thing for him to do. But she loved him that way. She decided not to deprive him of the potential pleasure of thinking he'd successfully lied to her. Anyway, perhaps it was best that what had happened in the Ministry remained a mystery to her. The important thing was that everything was fine. Wera didn't care about the matters of time after all that had happened, as long as she was in the same time and place as Draco and all his flaws – flaws that made the world, if not a better, then at least a far more interesting place.

Several minutes later, Draco placed the pseudo-timeturner in his girlfriend's hand. It felt, to her, unusually heavy and it emanated a distinct energy that instantly started weaving into her arm like a spell.

'It isn't much,' Draco shrugged idly. 'I personally kept it just because it has my name on it. But it's pretty useless, if you ask me. Oh, and by the way, Snape was asking for you.'

Wera's brain was already overheating.

'Snape?' she raised an eyebrow. 'But… isn't he dead?'

'Of course he is, silly,' Draco grinned cheerfully against her. 'What I meant to say was, Snape's portrait was asking for you. Said he wanted to talk to you about something.' He watched Wera's blank expression for a while and then, after seeing no sign of understanding in her eyes, added: 'Snape? Headmaster's office? Hogwarts? Portrait? Remember?'

'Oh… yes. Of course. It's, um… really great that we managed to keep in touch…'

'Course you did. How can he not keep in touch with you when you're the only Gryffindor student who's ever voiced out her appreciation for him prior to his death? Honestly, mudblood, think about it,' Draco winked at her and headed for the mirror to adjust his hair.

"I'll deal with you later, you filthy little liar," Wera replied to him in her mind, then focused on the small hourglass in her hand. It was really doing something to her. It made her feel odd, like she was seeing an old friend after a long separation.

She looked into the glass and saw Hogwarts. A sudden jet of energy passed through her hand holding the device. A moment later, she found herself lying on Hogwarts grounds again. Correction; lying angrily. She was getting really frustrated with time travel. This was probably another one of Draco's practical jokes.

A hand helped her stand up. Wera staggered to her feet, prepared for anything, and didn't grow any happier when she was suddenly once again face to face with fifteen-year-old Malfoy, smiling innocently at her.

Wait, Wera thought. There was something not quite right here…

This, hard as it was to perceive, wasn't Draco. It certainly looked like Draco and smiled like Draco and even dressed like Draco – but it wasn't him. Upon taking a better look, Wera spotted the differences quickly. The boy had a nose slightly longer than Draco's; his chin was slightly stronger than Draco's; his hair slightly messier than Draco's. In every other way, though, they were identical. Before Wera could think the situation over, the teenager smirked at her the same way Draco smirked.

'You know, you should really change your hairstyle,' he drawled, in the same lazy manner as Draco, 'you look like my mom.' The boy then narrowed his eyes, staring into Wera's more observantly than before, as if he was trying to spot a detail he'd missed. Wera noticed his eyes weren't blue-grey like Draco's eyes; they were still grey, but had the faintest shade of green in them, as faint as the green shade in her own brown eyes. The strange boy frowned, looking slightly confused. 'All jokes aside, you really _do_ look like my mother. Are you my mother? Tell me if you are, 'cause I might say something I'm not supposed to say to you.'

Wera just stood before the thin blond boy speechless, jaw dropped. The boy shook his head apologetically.

'How stupid of me; you don't even know me yet!' he said, extending his hand towards her. 'Hi, I'm Scorpius Malfoy, your son. I'm sorry about all the pain I caused you on my way out. I've always wanted to meet you in the past. Are you dating Dad yet, by the way? I _totally_ ship you guys, just so you know. Dad's been messing with time again, hasn't he? If you like, I could go talk to him in his first year and tell him not to do this anymore. Or to be nicer to you… but Mom – I mean you – always says that if Dad had been a better person in school, I wouldn't be here. Isn't it romantic?'

Wera could not reply as to whether or not this was romantic because she took one more flabbergasted look at Scorpius Malfoy and fainted.

XXX

Wera woke up in Draco's bed in the present – again – and sprang up sitting abruptly, shaking and muttering incoherently to herself.

'Another nightmare, mudblood?' Draco turned to her, left the mirror alone and approached her caringly. 'Maybe you should rest some more, you keep falling asleep…'

'It… was not… a nightmare…' Wera stammered as if she was mental. 'It… was… real… I just saw… _our son_,' she finished madly. Nothing made sense anymore. She was finally officially losing it.

Draco sat gently by her side, wrapped his arm compassionately over her shoulder… and started laughing, using his other arm to point mockingly at her.

'Hah! See?' he exclaimed victoriously through the tactless laughs. 'I _told_ you you would have my babies!'

Wera stared incredulously at him and smiled faintly. She couldn't believe how stubbornly immature he still was at the age of twenty. Well, perhaps there were a few traits of Draco's that time would never be able to change. That was the only way she loved him, though. Once a Draco Malfoy, always a Draco Malfoy.

Wera couldn't help but start laughing with Draco. She'd probably laugh at their strange fate until the end of time. And, she vaguely realized, she would most probably one day have his babies.

After all, she wouldn't have a choice.

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED… IN TIME


End file.
